


Have Hatred and Gravity Won

by anniespinkhouse



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: AU, Age Difference, Age Play, Daddy Kink, Drug Use, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Gang Bang, Gore, Implied Underage, M/M, Prostitution, Slavery, Spanking, civil conflict, underage (17)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-18
Updated: 2013-07-18
Packaged: 2017-12-20 16:39:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 20
Words: 77,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/889497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anniespinkhouse/pseuds/anniespinkhouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The plan was for Jensen to infiltrate the ranch as the President's slave, get security data out and his team of ruthless mercenaries in. It wasn't supposed to involve the President's bratty teenage son. Nowhere had he read the line about becoming Jared's personal slave. It wasn't supposed to get messy and personal, but then it did, and a violent act of revenge would put them both on a long journey to redemption. It can be a fine line between hatred and love, and once you cross it, then maybe gravity can pull you together in the end. Written for the spn-j2-bigbang 2013.<br/>The gorgeous art is by Amberdreams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Check out the art post here http://archiveofourown.org/works/888505 because the detail in Jensen and Jared's faces is to die for.
> 
> Beta readers, alpha reader and cheerleaders: I cannot thank sylsdarkplace and laurathelurker enough for their ongoing beta. annoyingfan did a fabulous job, coming in cold to make sure all my plot and character strings pulled together when it was finished. Similarly thank you to meus_venator for cheer leading. I couldn't have done it without you all. Any mistakes that remain are my own.
> 
> Disclaimer: This is fiction, pure fantasy folks. Nobody here belongs to me and they’re not likely to get in my van for candy any time soon. I make no money from the strange stories I invent.
> 
> Authors Notes: The title is taken from the song Revenge by Switchfoot. The story is set in an entirely fictional world, similar to our own but not entirely the same. The U.S. didn't develop with the size and influence of our world and smaller nations lie between the U.S. and Canada.  
> I’d like to thank wendy and thehighwaywoman at spn_j2_bigbang for doing such a great job organizing this challenge.

 

 

 

 

***

 

 

__

  


Misha’s eyes were crystal blue in the bright halo of the makeshift dental lamp. He dried one last coat of enamel on the back tooth of his patient and adjusted the light to scrutinize his work. “Bitchin’ craftsmanship,” he proclaimed, reaching for a mirror to set in front of his friend’s face.

“Hurts like a bitch.” Ross swung his leg over the side of the couch and sat up to look.  He cupped his chin in his hand and flexed his mouth with a crack of his jaw, “You’re good,” he complimented, peering at his reflection.

“It’s why you love me.” Misha kissed his friend’s cheek.

In a dark corner of the room JD rustled some papers and dropped his booted feet from the dusty table they’d been resting on. His eyes were rimmed black with lack of sleep and lines pulled taut in his pale face. His once shiny brown hair was salt and pepper and he sported a beard to cover the scars on his face. He gave Misha a tired smile. "Do you want to run through it, or shall I?” he asked. His fingers unconsciously stroked the handgun by his side. None of them were comfortable hiding out in this rat-hole, in a country torn apart by civil strife. Despite Monkota being wedged between Canada and America, there were few similarities to their neighbors, and none of its warring factions welcomed strangers.

“I got it,” Misha assured their leader.

Ross disconnected the battery, and bright light faded to black. The sudden gloom was lit only with oil lamps. Ross sat opposite JD and grabbed a beer from the cooler on the floor.

JD grabbed it out of Ross’s hand. “Oh no, that tooth has to set for two hours.”

Ross scowled.

Misha explained, “The veneer is solid, so there’s no chance of the usual tests picking it up. Avoid x-rays under any circumstances. It will be tough to crack. It will hurt like the real thing and bleed. Once you’ve cracked the tooth open, this baby will transmit for an hour and every single minute of it increases your risk of detection. You have to be in position and real sure."

JD took over, “There are rumors of underground hide-outs and tunnels, so we need to be in and out, quick and clinical. Once we're gone, we were never there. Our client, Quintas, wants President Padalecki alive, with as many of his government as we can manage, but he'll settle for just Padalecki. Everyone else is collateral, and we're not being paid for a head to head siege. Hell, I only have one gunship and two pilots.” 

“I thought Quintas had his own army,” Misha looked confused.

“He does, and they'll be on our heels, we're simply smoothing the way.”

Ross gave a wry laugh, “Let me guess. He doesn't trust them, and he needs to be sure President Padalecki is publicly discredited, _before_ putting his head on a stick.”

JD shrugged, “Quintas is a politician.”

“He's an egotistical mobster,” retorted Ross.

JD leaned forward to study the green eyed man who still cradled his jaw. “If you want out of this mission you can say so, and we'll get a replacement, with no questions asked, and no repercussions. We've all got our secrets. Don't ever think I don't know yours. This doesn’t get personal, do you understand me? Personal is what gets us killed.”

Ross grimaced. Of course JD checked him out. His fluid mastery of the accent of the closed-bordered nation was a huge red flag, and his forged papers would be obvious to an old pro. “Quintas is a crooked bastard. More even, than most politicians. Padalecki is a monster, and the Revolutionaries destroy anything that hints at wealth. Monkota is a mess. It's not like it can get worse.” Ross was uncharacteristically vehement. If their mission happened to coincide with some of his personal goals, then he thought it was no business of JD's. He could keep it professional.

"Wow!” Misha gasped, “I don't think I've ever heard you speak so many words. Is there anything you want to get off your chest?”

“Bite me!” Ross looked back at JD. “So, location? North East corner of the ranch – what's there?”

“Best information we have, it’s living quarters. Your cover puts you in the perfect place, and keeps you in close contact with the target.”

Misha swigged his beer. He looked concerned. “Ross is an indiscriminate man-whore, and we've all been asked to take one for the team, but I can't say I'm comfortable with this.”

Wide green eyes glared at him over a freckled nose, but there was a hint of a smile, “What did you just call me, Nerd?”

“Hey, not complaining, we've all benefited. I think you're the only reason Danni doesn't ask for a pay raise.” Misha put his hands up in surrender. Ross laughed. Misha was the unit clown, but there was some truth in it. 

JD lit a smoke, took a long drag and then spoke in his low, gritty drawl, “The President doesn't fuck his slaves.” He huffed a smoke ring and then continued, “According to our sources, he generally keeps to the ethics of the slave-charter. You'd hope so, he made it law. Ross will get his beauty sleep, and he won't starve. Padalecki likes his man to be impressive, loyal and quiet. His slave sees every secret of his. In theory, he's the President's last defense. Course, the last two years, Padalecki has become hellish unpredictable, and it _is_ a recent vacancy. Still, I have no doubt Ross will cope.”

Misha narrowed his eyes at JD, “The President had to replace every single slave after he fled his official residence. It doesn't show much care for them.”

Ross interrupted, “He doesn't care. He simply keeps to his own guidelines. The guidelines are general. They don't include the many ways of disposing of inconvenient obstructions, especially the human ones.” There was undeniable bitterness in Ross's statement. Misha and JD simultaneously quirked an eyebrow at him.

JD growled a question, “Is there something you'd like to add to the file, son?”

Ross shook his head, “No, Sir.”

Ash flicked to the floor from JD's cigarette. He watched the smoke curl lazily into the air and dance in the flickering light before inhaling another long drag. “Hm. Studies show that ninety percent of self-sold slaves think they will cope with their new status. There's a temporary high at the start of training. It's a rush to see so much money when there's been nothing. They're getting free meals, hot water, relative safety from the chaos outside; everything they've been lacking, or scared of losing. Then, the collar goes on.” JD stubbed his cigarette out against the scarred wood of the old table. “Ninety-five percent of all self-sold slaves get beaten at least twice in the first four weeks, because they can't keep from back-talk. It's human nature, son. Losing your freedom ain't so easy.”

There was a pause as Ross missed a beat to digest the information, “Back-chat. I can do that.”

“Or, you could choose to be one of the five percent. A tongue isn't just for talking,” Misha commented.

“It should look real.” Ross retorted.

JD shook his head. “As long as Padalecki thinks his secrets are safe, so is Ross's tongue.”

Ross licked his lips. Long lashes flicked over vivid green eyes as he slowly blinked and regained his control. He squared his shoulders. “How do we know I’ll be chosen?”

JD leaned forward to speak, but Misha interrupted, “Who wouldn’t want that ass?”

Ross laughed, “Seriously, Misha?”

JD gave an exasperated growl, “It’s fixed. Your name is Jensen Ackles. You are self-sold with pro-President sympathies. Your training was quick, willing and easy, and your sister is Padalecki's insurance. When you negotiate your loyalty price you should aim for half your slave price. Any less, and the President gets jumpy. We do want you to keep your tongue. Any more, and he'll pass you over as greedy. Your life is between these covers, so learn it well.” He flicked a file to Ross, who nodded his acknowledgment, opened it and started to read.

  



	2. Chapter 2

 

___ _

  
  
Jared's cheeks were rosy warm and he was off-balance. The effects of too much wine were starting to manifest, which was good, because he needed something to get him through the pompous tedium of the banquet. His current view, of the pert ass of a man bending to pick a napkin from the floor, also helped.  


Pa had a new slave and he was _hot_. He was over six foot of lean meat and muscle, with the face of an angel, golden freckles on his nose, and the pouty pink lips of a cock sucking demon. The slave was undecorated, perfect in grace and his eyes turned to the floor without any hint that he noticed the raucous bawdiness of the President and his men. He wasn’t young, not even a teenager, maybe ten years older than Jared. He was the epitome of what his father enjoyed, a beautiful specimen, and eager to please. Jared spared himself a downwards glance when his father wasn’t looking, because _damn,_ he hoped he wasn’t a eunuch. Just because his father didn’t approve of sex with the crawling classes didn’t mean he wasn’t going to give it a try, and he normally got his way. The slave's pants weren't tight enough to give anything away. Jared licked his lips. He'd just have to find a way to remove them.

The slave retreated to the kitchen with dirty plates, and Jared idly pushed his dessert around his plate, wondering how soon he could make excuses to leave. He had a big appetite, but the quantity of food served was bigger, and only a few still ate. Government representatives fawned around his father at the main table of a grandly decorated, and crimson-carpeted dining hall. His father ignored his youngest son as usual, guzzling a bellyful of wine for every plentiful mouthful of dessert, while extolling the virtues of vegetables, grown over the graves of his political opponents. Jared drained the last of his wine in a bid to silence his frustration.  

“Lord Jared?” Jared was startled by a low drawl. The boy, no, hell, _man_ -slave, was by his elbow offering port from a crystal carafe.

“Not a Lord. Don’t call me that,” As his Pa's enemies and paranoia multiplied, the President increasingly justified muting his personal slaves. He obviously hadn’t found a reason to silence this one yet, and Jared didn't like to be compared to the creeps who coveted meaningless titles. Still, Jared considered all the things the tongue in that pretty head could do, and decided he’d like to keep it there.

The new slave risked a sly glance at Jared’s father. “The Lord President Padalecki thought you might take more wine.” He lowered his voice, so Jared could only just hear, “I don't think you should. Nobody likes a hangover, and drunk doesn't improve anybody's behavior.” Green-gold eyes rolled their derision in the direction of his Pa. The slave withdrew the carafe without waiting for Jared's answer and started to walk around his chair.

Jared took a moment to process the implied insult, before his hand shot out, to grasp the slave’s forearm. “You need to watch that tongue, or you will lose it,” he threatened, as he yanked him back with a force that reddened his skin and twisted his arm. Vintage port splashed onto Jared’s Ralph Lauren shirt, and his father’s attention focused on the scene with a narrow-eyed glare. _Fuck._

“My useless son is wasting my liquor, and there is a slave who cannot serve. What shall we do?” President Padalecki was loud in his scorn. His cronies laughed heartily and hollered for whip, strap or blade.

Jared’s cheeks flushed and he lowered his gaze. He slammed his napkin to the table, and his chair caught in the carpet and toppled as he stood up. He didn’t lose grip of the slave who looked between him and his father with startled and unusually bold green eyes.  “You don’t get to look at us!” Jared yelled at the slave, before turning to shout at his father, “Look what your bitch did! Fucking idiot needs a lesson.”

The President’s eyes smoldered dangerously. He spoke to the entire room while fixing Jared in his stare, “Are you too pathetic to take a stand for yourself? Is that why you can’t take a uniform and fight? We know you would fuck him, but not fuck him up, because you’ll never be a man, Jared.”

There was a sudden silence, broken only by the shift of father’s bodyguards, assessing the risk. The tension between father and son hung heavily in the air and the discomfort of it spread. Their dinner companions buried their noses in wine glasses, or pretended to look at their plates. They let the scene play out with a morbid fascination. It wasn’t the first time that Jared and his father had clashed, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. It always made for drama and gossip.

“Get me the cat.” Jared’s jaw jutted in determination.

His father hooted with laughter and doubled over.

“I said, _get me the cat_.”

“Jensen isn’t your property to punish, you worthless degenerate. Maybe I will cut off his balls with a rusty knife, and I can, because he belongs to me. Everything here does." There was a hint of pride in his father’s slurred statement. He guarded his new toys with pride, and the slave had undoubtedly been an expensive one.

“He harmed me, it is my prerogative,” spat Jared. He was shaking and he was unsure if it was anger, fear or excitement that fueled him. The slave, _Jensen_ , was pale in his grip, his bravado gone in the face of his impending punishment. He had to know there was no running from it, or pleading out of it.

His father sneered at Jared but he had his favorite girl collect his fiercest cat-o-nine-tails. “Show me you’re a man, Jared. I don’t believe you are.” His cruel hazel eyes fixed on his son and his teeth bared in a crooked smile.

Jared seethed with resentment; he was seventeen, no boy and not weak. This shouldn’t have happened. He was humiliated, yet again, in front of his father, his father’s cronies, and his late mother’s detractors. It was entirely the slave’s fault, and in that moment, rage burned and he hated him.

Sometimes, Jared was convinced that his Pa deliberately tempted him with handsome slaves then damaged them, to punish him for his sexuality and his choices. This time he wouldn’t. It was Jared’s turn to take the slave’s perfection while his father still coveted it.

He twisted a hand into Jensen’s collar. With the other, he swiped crockery and crystal from the table, shattering it with a noise that echoed against the wood-paneled walls. He bent the man over, slammed his face onto the table, and then took his dagger from its sheath. Jensen’s eyes widened in horror, and he bucked against Jared’s hold. Jared twisted his collar until his breath was cut off, and then kicked his legs from under him. Jensen wheezed, and Jared only let go when he slumped, defeated and gasping on the table. His cheek dotted snow-white linen with bright flecks of blood drawn by broken glass and porcelain. Jared admired the bright color contrast, as he snarled in the slave’s ear, “There is armed security at every exit. Stay there, and take your punishment, if you want to live.”

His knife was wicked sharp. He let it reflect the bright light from the chandeliers before he sliced through the fabric of Jensen’s pants, and up his shirt, ripping his uniform apart. The clothes peeled neatly from his skin and Jared took a moment to admire the slave’s perfection. Jensen froze in place with only the heave of his breath from the moment the knife nosed into his pants. His terror was tangible, and it amused Jared. He didn’t intend to inflict permanent damage to an ass as fine as this, but the slave didn’t have to know. He sheathed his knife, but he didn’t think he was done with it yet.

The cat-o-nine-tails felt heavy in Jared’s hand. He knew how to use it, and thanks to his father, he knew the pain of knotted leather against flesh. He remembered how it felt when it drew blood to the surface, and lit every nerve with agony. Jared raised his arm, stared defiantly into his father’s face. He brought the flogger down against the skin of Jensen’s shoulders, and it landed with a thud and cry of pain from the slave. He hesitated before the next stroke, and his father jeered an insult, “Knew you were a pussy, Jared.” 

Jared tipped his head and considered his father. He wouldn’t back down. Not this time. He smoothed the leather handle in his hand, considered the golden-dotted and pale canvas of Jensen’s back. He leaned over him, trailed his hand lightly over the angry marks that the first lash had left, and slid his fingertips lower, to stroke the round cheeks of the trembling ass. Breathing hot in Jensen’s ear, he whispered, “Don’t make a sound.” He grabbed his used napkin, balled it up and forced it into the slave’s mouth.

The second strike left hot pink stripes over the swell of Jensen’s ass and the third struck his thighs. With each one, Jared breathed deep and Jensen flinched and grunted. By the tenth strike, Jared reached a steady rhythm and tears of defeat rolled down the slave’s face. Guests murmured in disbelief. His father’s expression didn’t lose its drunken arrogance. Jared didn’t stop at twenty, and Jensen’s back was a bloody mess by twenty-five. He barely noticed the slave’s legs give way, and the roll of his eyes back into his head, as he slumped unconscious over the table. Jared was sweaty and satisfied. His father’s furious face was worth every stroke. He threw the cat to the floor, next to the slave, and drew his knife once more. He crouched to carve a neat ‘JP’ over the chiseled perfection of the slave’s cheekbone, and then stalked from the dining hall. His father waved an impatient signal to his bodyguards who lowered their weapons to let Jared pass. Jared had the final words, “I believe the slave has my mark now, Pa.”

Jared let adrenalin carry him out of his father’s sight. He hadn’t thought past his defiant display, and now had to wonder if he would be disowned and thrown from the safety of the compound. Pa was an unpredictable drunk, and he made no secret of his disappointment in Jared. He leaned against the kitchen doorway, to catch his breath and look for a particular slave in a kitchen that bustled with the aftermath of a nine course banquet.

“Fin!” Jared beckoned a slight blond slave who stood by a sink of soapy water, scrubbing a pot. There was an extra loud clang as the boy slammed the pan onto the stand in obvious temper. Everything else hushed, and Jared was abruptly aware of being stared at by every servant and slave in the kitchen.

“You said it was my choice, I never have to,” Fin’s voice wavered. It was a childish plea, a far cry from his usual ebullient manner.

“I need you,” stated Jared, firmly.

“Cook needs me, Master Jared.” Fin turned away from him. Cook raised her hands in a fluster, “It is a complicated banquet, Master Jared.”

“We have finished eating.” Jared’s voice was laced with menace. There was no reason for any of the staff to respect him, but he was used to their co-operation.

The young scullery maid, Madison, bit her lip and pushed Fin forwards, “You should go,” she said.

Jared smiled at her. Madison was one of his favorites. She lowered her eyes and her lip quivered. She stepped behind Fin and hid. Fin reached a hand to touch her and it looked protective. Jared swept his gaze around the kitchen once more. He sensed fear and disapproval in hastily down-turned faces, and the fumbling pretense of work. Someone had seen him flog the new slave, and whispers had already spread. He addressed them as a group, with an icy glare. “Get on with your work, or I will report you all for slacking.”  It was an empty threat but he knew they wouldn’t take the chance of it. Sideways glances were exchanged with Fin, and tasks were resumed.

“It’s okay,” Fin reassured Cook, as he stepped to Jared’s side.

Jared banged his bedroom door behind him. He didn’t need small talk and he didn’t want to think. He had Fin slammed against the wall in no time. His hands looped into the belt of Fin’s pants, and he pulled them down, exposing the twink’s perfect round ass and his neat, cut cock hung flaccid between his thighs. Jared buried his face into Fin’s shoulder, licked the line of his neck, and dragged his teeth along his collarbone, stopping to suck a purple bruise into his skin. His hands fumbled to get his own pants down around his eager erection. “Are you ready for me, Fin? I bet you’re all greased up for me, you kinky little shit. I bet you’re just waiting for me to split your ass.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Jared’s huge hands gripped Fin’s hips and lifted him easily. The boy’s arms circled his neck and his legs hitched up to squeeze around Jared’s trim waist. Jared braced them both with Fin’s back to the wall, and he didn’t waste any time in breaching the tight young ass. He let gravity and a single powerful thrust do the work as his thick cock drove into the tight and fluttering hole. Fin’s head dropped onto Jared's shoulder to bury his face into the flexing flesh with a groan. The boy seemed as enthusiastic as ever. He rocked his hips into Jared’s thrusts and slid up his dick to slam back down, impaled and stuffed with cock. There were whimpers and groans, and encouragements of ‘do it’ and ‘fuck me’ dropping from his lips.

Jared snapped his hips and threw his head back, no thought for anything except the push and slide, breath, and hot flesh, chest to chest and balls deep in this delicious boy. He lost himself in need and lust until his world was white with bliss and a final harsh plunge had him tipped over the edge and coming hard. He groaned and his hands slid over the smooth painted wall, where a series of bloody finger-prints stained the magnolia surface. Jared blinked at the marks, then at his hands. He hadn’t washed after flogging the slave, and he remembered the horror of the man’s back when he’d finished with him. He eased his soft cock from Fin before placing him in a curled bundle on the floor. He wiped himself with tissues, tucked himself back in and scraped his fingers through his thick, mussed hair. “Shit!”

There was no response. Fin was panting hard, his face turned into the rug. Jared toed at his arm. “I said, Shit!”

“What?” inquired Fin, obediently.

“I got blood on the decor; Pa’s gonna go ape.”

“I’ll clean it for you.” Fin offered. The boy wiped himself with a cotton handkerchief and started to dress. His cock was still limp and he didn’t plead for his own relief. Jared couldn’t muster any concern for the kid’s enjoyment.

“Leave it. You should go.” He reached to a fruit bowl that stood on a decorative table and scooped out several apples, an orange and a lime, “Thanks Fin, share them with Madison.”

Fin gathered the fruit into his arms and hugged it into his chest with a huge grin. “All of it?” he asked, with hungry, wide eyes.

“Yeah, whatever. You didn’t get it from me. Don’t get caught.”

Fin lifted his shirt and tucked the fruit under it. He dared a look at Jared through his floppy blond fringe, “Can I give one to Jensen?”

“Pa’s new slave? Why should I care?”

“He seemed like a nice guy.”

“He’s an obnoxious prick.”

There was the sound of boots and heavy scraping in the corridor. Jared frowned, wondering what it was, and Fin reached for the door handle, to leave in a hurry. The door banged open, and Jared’s Pa barged in, pushing Fin out of the way. Fruit bumped and bruised on the floor. The young slave fell to his knees in front the President. Goosebumps covered his arms and Jared could see him trembling with fear.

“Jared, this boy has been stealing. There could be no good reason for such a generous reward.” President Padalecki booted a foot into the soft flesh of Fin’s belly. The boy doubled over and coughed.

Jared’s mouth opened and closed. He couldn’t find his voice.

“Because no son of mine would be stupid enough fuck this slave, _this boy_.” Jared’s Pa loomed over him, sporting an evil smirk, “You wouldn’t court a scandal to blacken my name, would you? Because I would cut you off without a penny and feed you to the seething crowd. You wouldn’t be so silly, would you?”

Jared managed a strangled, “No, Sir.”

Fin looked like he might shatter. Nobody dared beg the President for mercy, but his eyes pleaded with Jared to tell the truth. A huge hand gripped the boy’s collar and lifted him from the ground. Jared’s Pa was massive, six foot six plus change, of raw muscle and anger, and he held the boy casually in one hand as he choked. Fin’s toes scrabbled through air trying to reach the safety of the floor.

“So, he was stealing from me? He’s a worthless thief?” The President raised his eyebrows at his son, and Fin continued to struggle, his eyes bugging from his head.

Jared was rooted to the spot. Whatever words he chose, this wouldn’t end well. He gave the slightest of nods. He heard his Pa’s handgun cock, and it took a minute to comprehend the warm splatter of droplets on his face, but there was no mistaking the echo of gunshot and the crimson pool of blood and brain that flecked the walls and pooled on the floor.

“Well, then. Witnessed, tried and sentenced.”

It was only when Jared vomited his entire evening’s banquet, into the gory mess on the rug, that he noticed what his father had dragged into the room. _Shit!_ His Pa’s slave, Jensen, was collapsed on his floor. He hadn’t escaped the wrath of the President, even after his flogging. His right eye was bruised and swollen and his chin was similarly marked.

His Pa was leaving the room, without his slave.

“Sir …?” Jared needed to know what it meant.

“You humiliated me. You wanted Jensen, you marked him. I am a generous man, so he is yours, but you will not have another slave to serve you. You can remain in my safety. You will have bed and board, but no other slave is permitted to help you. Jensen is all you have. Care for him properly. Your tutor has been dismissed. I don't want to see or hear you. Your presence tires me.” His bloody hand reached for the door handle, “Get rid of this mess. Do it before anything starts to rot.” The door slammed behind him.

He stood beside the slave on the floor. Jensen’s left eye opened to look up at him, deep green and sullen. His spirit didn't seem as defeated as his body. Jared wondered about that.  

Jensen closed his eye again, and he seemed to smirk, though it was difficult to tell.

Jared considered his slave for a moment, “Don’t be too smug. You’re stuck with me too.” He turned his back on the whole mess, left his slave in his room, and trailed blood all the way to the library.

  



	3. Big Bang 2013: Have Hatred and Gravity Won - 2/19

  
  
Jared couldn’t concentrate on the words in his books and he couldn’t answer the questions he’d been set. Even if he _could_ complete his homework, he no longer had a tutor. He closed his pages and took the short trip back to his living quarters. He took a deep breath to steady himself for the bloody, revolting mess he had left behind.   


The slave, Jensen, was on his hands and knees scrubbing at a wide red stain. He remained unclothed, and Jared could see his muscles rippling as he worked. Angry welts on his back seemed to rearrange themselves as he flexed. He dipped a scrubbing brush into a pail of soapy water and brought it back to the floor to brush vigorously at the bloodstain. His every movement was awkwardly painful and the strain showed in the crease of his forehead and pinch of his mouth. He was absorbed in his self-appointed task, methodical and silent. Jared’s rug was gone and so was Fin.

Jared was baffled, and a little in awe of the man’s strength to continue, given the particulars of his evening. “What are you doing? I didn’t tell you to do anything.”

Jensen rocked back on his heels to kneel upright. _Okay, so he was definitely still whole where it mattered,_ but it gave him no thrill to stare. Jared forced his gaze up. Jensen's hand smeared pink soapy water over his face, as he wiped the sweat from his brow. “I am cleaning, Master.”

If the man was being sarcastic then Jared couldn’t tell. “Where’s Fin?”

“The boy? I took his body to rest in one of the cool outhouses. He’ll be cleaned and I can bury him tomorrow, if that pleases, Master.” Jensen spoke in a soft low drawl. There wasn’t a hint of reproach in his manner, but Jared could sense the disapproval. He guessed that rebellion still lurked under the surface.

“There’s a furnace." Jared suggested. Pa usually insisted on it.

“It is shut-down for repairs until next week. It would be unhygienic to leave the body for so long.”

“Huh! Are you telling me my business?” Jared itched to beat the smugness out of him, but there was a measure of admiration too. He had withstood a harsh beating and kept some spirit.

"No, Master. It is what I overheard in the kitchen today, but you may want to check with your father, or with the household staff."

“Do whatever you want with the body as long as it is dealt with.” Jared yawned and waved him away. “I’m going to bed. You can leave everything until morning. Get somebody to wash and dress those wounds, eat, and then go to bed. Bring my breakfast at nine. I like my bacon crisp, and my egg poached, soft in the middle. Oh, and find some clothes.”

Jensen continued to kneel.

“Well go on then.”

Jensen still knelt, “Master, if I understand protocol correctly, your father does not want me returned to his ownership. I cannot use his staff quarters, clothes or even his slaves to clean my wounds.”

The slave was infuriatingly correct. Generally, Jared used slaves and sent them back to the housekeeper. He didn't have facilities for Jensen, or experience in keeping slaves. He scowled. “What am I supposed to do with you?”

Jensen looked up at him through, thick, long lashes, “Whatever you will, Master.”

Jared raked his eyes over the neck, neatly circled with a black collar, lingered over Jensen’s firm chest and abs, then leered at the heavy, limp cock that nestled in neatly trimmed hair between muscular thighs.

"Mm. I can think of some things."

Jensen's open eye seemed to narrow, he was undoubtedly assured of his rights under The Slave Charter. "I don't think so. Unless you want me to top, _Master_?" There was a sarcastic undertone to the question.

Jared almost choked when his initial gulp of breath combined with a need to laugh. The put-down was unexpected, and peculiarly hot. There was every reason to consider it unacceptable, but it was hilarious to him. Perhaps it was hysteria, or maybe he had been too long without the company of anybody who still voiced their own mind. He laughed until tears ran down his face. “Fuck! You really think you have a choice, don’t you? Don’t flatter yourself, you're nothing special.” It was beyond a lie, the slave was _gorgeous,_ but he wasn't Jared's type. He wasn’t looking for a challenge.

 

  
  
  
Jensen waited for Jared's temper. It was obvious he was used to sexual favors from the household slaves. Sex was nothing special to Jensen, and there was little he hadn't sold himself for once, but he wasn't a catcher, and he didn't give up his control, not ever again.  


Jared laughed too long, and too loud. There was a definite note of hysteria in it. Jensen remembered how young he was, and supposed that alcohol and shock might do that to a kid.

When Jared calmed he pointed to his bathroom. "Use my shower. Don’t get blood on the towels. Clean up after you.”

Jensen hissed in pain as warm water sprayed onto his back. _Jensen._ He let the name echo in his head, because he had screwed up. He had seen the way President Padalecki treated his son, and noted Jared’s distaste for his own father. Jared’s seemingly meek manner had driven Jensen's split-second decision to direct his talk-back at him, as a way to test the kid’s loyalty. He had been flying blind, with no intel on the boy. He should have known better than that. _Ross did know better_ _than that._ Now, he was in the wrong place, by the wrong person, and twenty five lashes was at least twice as many as he could have expected from the boy's Pa. The flaming agony of deep welts, and the red hot pain of the cut on his face were a cruel reminder that he couldn't afford to screw up.

Water ran red down the drain. Jensen wondered how he would get dry without getting blood on the towels but that was probably the least of his problems. He turned the shower off and considered his next move, but his thoughts were interrupted.

“I need to piss. Don’t mind me.” Jared rushed past to use the toilet. When done, he looked back over his shoulder at Jensen in the shower stall. “You’re still bleeding,” he commented, as he did up his fly.

_Duh, genius!_ Jensen lowered his eyes and bit back his retort. He stood naked and dripping while Jared washed his hands. He couldn't work out a strategy for the, no-blood-on-the-towels thing, other than not using one.

“Here.” Jared held a gigantic and fluffy blue towel in front of him, “It doesn’t count if _I_ get blood on it.” He draped it over Jensen’s shoulders and patted gently. “Wrap up in this, until I find something for you to wear.”

He shivered. He tried to convince himself it was just cold air. It had nothing to do with the chilling thought that this _kid_ whipped him until he bled, then watched a boy being killed in cold blood, yet now offered comfort with soft eyes and a softer touch. Jared was vicious anger in one moment, yet soft words and puppy eyes in the next. Jensen was a pro who could kill the kid with a single wrench of his stupidly elegant neck, so he wasn't sure why it freaked him out. He buried his doubts and remembered his place. "Thank you, Master,” he said meekly.

“Cut the crap with me, Jensen. My name is Jared. Whatever your trader claimed to have achieved with you, I think it’s fucking obvious you’re not broken.” Jared shrugged his shoulders, and he looked all sorts of innocent. “I like it when you talk normally. It’s refreshing, assuming you don’t try to kill me, or anything silly like that.”

Jensen's mind whirred into overdrive trying to understand him, and it must have shown in his expression.

"It wasn't about you. You ruined my shirt. I had to,"Jared arrogantly declared.

It was lucky that the swelling of Jensen's face slowed his speech, because it stopped him from asking how a splash of wine on a shirt merited twenty five lashes. He bit back the question, because he already knew the answer. He'd seen the interactions between Jared and his father, and just like Fin, Jensen's punishment had nothing to do with the crime, and everything to do with the relationship between father and son. Padalecki Senior was on a narcissistic power trip, but at least he was a known quantity. Jensen knew Jared’s history but there was next to nothing known about his motivations or state of mind. Jensen tried to remember what he was like at Jared's age, but he never had the opportunity to act-out until he joined the army, and then it was neatly channeled into controlled violence and killing. It wasn't a reassuring comparison.

Jared was as tall as Jensen, and he was good looking. His style was casual, with well fitted denims. Shiny brown hair made a soft halo around a face with fine features and strong jaw line. Exotic tip-tilted eyes sparkled hazel or maybe green or brown, with flecks of other colors which made them hard to categorize. He could be any college student, but he wasn’t. It could be easy to look at him, see his dimpled smile and forget who he was. Jensen wouldn't. Sophie was beautiful once, Jensen, no _Ross_ , thought. He remembered her flawless skin and bright eyes, the way she was before she met Jared. He remembered the media coverage of her decimated corpse, and the frozen terror on the faces of slaves who were slaughtered when the President and his family fled their country home. He had wondered how stalwart, sensible, Sophie had fallen for him, but now he thought he understood.

Inside, anger bubbled, and he wanted to beat Jared to a pulp, or tie him up and make him suffer, but _personal_ would only get him dead before he could achieve his goals. If revenge is a dish best served cold, then Jensen’s would be liquid nitrogen.

“Um. Okay. So there’s a pillow and a blanket, and you can lie on the towel,” Jared threw bedding from his own huge bed at the oversized sofa in his room. He triumphantly pulled something from a set of drawers, “and there’s jogging bottoms and a tee.” Clothes flew across the space to land in a heap by Jensen’s feet, “They might not fit very well, but anything is better than nothing, yeah. Not sure what we’re going to do about food, but you probably didn’t eat when we did.” An energy bar hit Jensen's shoulder and fell to the floor. “There’s drinking water on the stand. I prefer soda.”

Nothing in Jensen’s crappy day had prepared him for being treated like a school friend stopping over. He was certain he wasn’t allowed on the sofa, and he was going to bleed all over the tee-shirt. He put a finger to the heated pain of the cut on his face. The thought of Jared’s stark claim to ownership made him nauseous. Jensen swayed. He felt dizzy, the world was starting to spin, and his legs weren’t co-operating. Blood loss, low sugar level and shock, he supposed. He startled when he felt a hand on his arm and Jared was there, next to him, all warm breath and warm hands, firm muscle and concern, helping him into the clothes. “C’mon, everythin’ is pretty much trashed in here, you can’t make it worse.”

Jensen accepted the pants but pushed the tee-shirt back at him. “I’ll lie on my front.” He collapsed on the sofa, and Jared covered him with a blanket before peeling the wrapper off the energy bar for him.

“We could play X-Box if we weren’t so beat. Do you play X-Box?” Jared was still talking.

He'd been told to talk normally, so he didn't hold back. “Is this some sort of trick, Jared?” Jensen couldn’t figure him out.

Jared shrugged his shoulders and bit his lip. “No. I just, y’know. You’re in my room, and it’s kind of awkward, and when it’s awkward I talk, a lot.”

Jensen shuffled onto his side to look at Jared, “What’s awkward about it? I’m your slave.” He sighed, “Are you going to punish me in the morning, for sleeping here, Jared, just so I know?”

“No. No!” Jared swung his arms aimlessly and pointed to his bed, “I’m, um, going to read.” He retreated to sit with his comforter pulled around him and a lamp pooling light by his side. He flipped the switch to dim the main lights.

Jensen closed his eyes, but he couldn’t sleep. His welts throbbed and his entire body thrummed on high alert. He was unrestrained, just five paces away from the person who was responsible for Sophie's death, and there was nothing except his professionalism stopping him taking revenge right there and then.

There was the sound of a page turning and then silence. He sensed Jared’s stare and this time it was Jensen who felt the need to break the silence. “You didn’t cuff me. I could kill you while you sleep.”

Jared huffed in amusement and looked over to lock eyes with him, “If you had any bite you wouldn’t be here. My father likes his slaves to look the part, but you are no hero, because he isn’t a fool. I’ll be first against the wall when the revolution comes. If you want to start early, feel free to try. Regardless of my condition, the guards will tear you to pieces. My advice is to wait for the revolution. Maybe you’ll get what you want while continuing to breathe.”

“Huh,” Jensen was sideswiped by the reply. _He was sure he would_ , but right now he was overstepping boundaries, and he still couldn’t get a read on the kid. It didn’t bode well for his mission. He buried his head into his cushion and closed his eyes. He needed to rest.

“Jensen. Why do you test me, when you know I will take a whip to you? You’ve seen how quickly a mouth can be permanently silenced.” Jared sounded curious rather than angry.

Jensen decided not to lie, “You told me to speak normally. I'm not a naturally sweet person. I’m the only slave you have, and I am certain you are too spoiled to clean your mess or make your own meals.”

“Don’t count on it, Jensen.” The threat in Jared’s response was undisguised. He clicked the lamp off and the room became dark, “G’night, Jensen,” he said, and there was suddenly something childish, almost needy in it.

 

_Oh, for god’s’ sake_. “G’night, Jared,” Jensen buried his head into the pillow and let himself imagine all the painful things he could do to Jared Padalecki.

***

Jared snuffled and turned in his sleep. Jensen stilled and waited. He closed the door quietly and tiptoed back toward the couch. His recon. was a bust. If he wanted to get anywhere undetected, he would have to disable the cameras and pass through armed patrols. He paused to stare down at Jared, in his bed. He slept like an innocent child, with his covers strewn aside and his hair trailing on the pillow. Jensen's hand hovered by Jared’s face; two fingers and a thumb was all it would take, but he curled his fingers into his palm and drew back. Jared was his ticket through the security system and that meant building trust. His eyes flicked over Jared’s young body and back to the wide kissable mouth. He pondered on Jared’s erratic behavior, and his obvious need for a father’s approval. He wondered if the kid had ever been fucked, and a plan started to form. Yeah, Jared was going to be _so fucked_.

 

  
  
  
Jared woke with a start. He opened hazy eyes to a deep green eye, freckles, and full pink lips that smiled at him. It was seconds before he registered the other puffed eye, and the angry red scar that marred the beautiful face. He remembered the events of the evening before. _I’m a dick,_ he decided. He shut his eyes again. “You’re still here,” he groaned.   


“Of course I am. I am yours.” Jensen’s voice was low and soothing.

The scent of coffee and bacon wafted under Jared’s nostrils and he groaned again. “Oh my god that smells wonderful. What time is it?”

“Nine o’clock, sir. Apparently, I can use the kitchen, as long as I request an escort and don’t get in the way.” Jensen puffed a pillow, and Jared yawned and sat up. He leaned forward for Jensen to put a pillow behind his back. Fingers trailed softly over his shoulder as Jensen withdrew his hand, and Jared shivered. The touch felt good, but Jensen showed no sign that he noticed their contact.

Jensen knelt submissively by the bed while Jared ate. “I thought about what you said last night. You were right, I was out of order. I was trained better than that, and I am sorry, Master. It won’t happen again.”

Jared chewed a piece of bacon and swallowed. He looked thoughtful. “Good, just don’t go limp-noodle on me. Nobody has any spark around here.”

“I’ll try to find the right balance.” Jensen replied placidly.

He studied his slave. His face was bruised purple and red, one eye was reduced to the barest slit and his tempting, plump lips were swollen. The stripes on his back were oozing and shiny. Jensen was in obvious pain every time he moved. “You look like crap,” Jared commented.

Jensen didn’t reply.

“I could find some pain meds for you.” Jared palmed at his crotch and leered at his slave, “A favor for a favor. I only need your mouth.”

Jensen hesitated. “It doesn’t hurt.” Jared knew he was lying, but he let the slave continue speaking, “Shall I prepare the wash room for your cold shower?”

“What makes you think I’m giving you a choice?”

“I’m not a whore, Jared.”

“No, a whore has their freedom. You are less.”

“And you are a gentleman, Jared.” Jensen delivered the line without a hint of sarcasm.

His slave was quick-witted. A smile crossed Jared’s face. Jensen's sharp replies reminded him of someone else. He missed Sophie's smart-mouth. “See there’s your spark. I won't silence you today, because it amuses me.”

“Thank you, Jared.” His gratitude sounded genuine.

Jared left an egg and a piece of toast on his tray and offered it back to Jensen. “Eat this. It’s good. Clear the dishes, then you can finish cleaning my room. I’ll get a patrol to accompany you outside the building, so you can dig a grave for Fin, if you must.”

“That would be useful. How do I contact you for further instructions? Where will you be?”

“I’ll be back before you finish. It’s not like I have anywhere interesting to go,” Jared ground his teeth; his gilded cage frustrated him more every day. “I’ll be in the gym, a shower after that, and then the library.”

 

 

  
  
  
Jared's room overlooked a patch of lawn on the exterior of the ranch. Everything looked misty through thick, bullet-proof glass, and the small window didn't open. The room was large and comfortable but it wasn't luxurious. A huge bed topped with tasteful plain blue bedding dominated the space. The floor was an expanse of polished wood, broken up with thick rugs. Jensen had rolled Fin's body in a rug which was irretrievably bloodied, and he had removed it with the body, but there were more that would cover the space. There was a modest closet, filled with an assortment of mostly casual clothes. A chest of drawers, desk and occasional table were topped with clutter which included face wash and leather bracelets, batteries, combs, and all the paraphernalia of youth. A blue floor-length curtain hid an alcove with a neatly arranged miniature fridge, a water cooler, and a shelf with coffeemaker and mugs. A state of the art surround-sound movie and gaming system was the only obvious extravagance.  


Jensen let routine housekeeping steady him. It reminded him of basic training in Padalecki’s army. Some days there had only been a toothbrush and the toe of his sergeant-major’s boot to enable his task. He had emerged tough and resourceful from that regime and used his skills to escape it entirely. There had been another initiation, after he tracked down JD and demanded a place as the youngest member of his team. He had cleaned toilets with toothbrushes, squeezed into rancid spaces, and run with a full backpack in equatorial rain and desert sun until his blisters had blisters. Even Misha had taken his part in beating him down. He’d come through it unscathed, and in the missions which followed, JD’s team had become family to him. He didn’t need the work any longer. He had a new life in a free country, any one of a number of identities, and the money in his off-shore accounts stacked to an obscene sum that he couldn't hope to spend in his lifetime. It wasn't about money any more. If it was, he wouldn’t be on his knees, in this tiny, mixed-up province, for anyone, regardless of the price.

Jared strode in, bringing the musky scent of sweat and exercise with him. “Looking good,” he remarked cheerfully, and flung a small packet at Jensen who caught it reflexively, in one hand. Jared’s eyebrows shot up, “Nice catch!” He dropped a sports bag to the floor by Jensen, and made for the bathroom, “Water pressure is pathetic in the gym. I came back for my shower. My sports wear needs to be washed, dried and folded back into the tote for tomorrow.”

Jensen turned the packet of Tylenol in his hand and looked to Jared for clarification.

“I’m an ass, and you’re a liar when you claim you don’t hurt. They’re for you. No strings attached. There’s not enough to kill you, so don’t think about taking them all at once.”

It was Jensen’s turn to be surprised. “Thanks.”

Jared’s suggestive tone returned, “I got ointment as well, but you can’t put it on your own back. There will be touching involved. I promise not to compromise your virginal reputation, unless you want me to.”

 

***

  
  
He laid Jensen out shirtless on his bed, with his chest nestled into the silky coverlet, and a pillow under his head before pulling his pants down to expose the lacerations on his ass and thighs. Jared’s touch was unexpectedly gentle. Huge palms smoothed cool balm on red hot and stinging flesh. Jared leaned into the massage, his face a breath away from Jensen’s neck, making hairs stand on end and nerves tingle.  


Jensen upped his game and shifted into Jared’s space, so his Master’s lips brushed lightly against the soft skin below his collar. He heard a hitch in Jared’s breath and it accompanied his own. His twisted tease was more erotic than any of the faceless and anonymous sex he indulged in. However sick Jensen was for enjoying it, Jared had a fit body and a thrilling touch that was inappropriate to his youth. Jensen resorted to the image of his first sergeant major to prevent an erection.

Jared wriggled the pants back up. Jensen wondered whose modesty he was trying to preserve. “Sit up.” He took Jensen’s hand to steady him and then sat beside him on the bed. He cupped Jensen’s chin in his hand and turned his face toward him. A finger scooped ointment from the pot and spread a light layer over the letters carved on Jensen’s cheek. “There, almost done,” he said, swiping the remainder from his finger to the edges of Jensen’s mouth. From the corner of his eye Jensen could see the obvious bulge of Jared’s erection under the cloth of his tight jeans. He schooled his face to neutral and let his hand relax. His forearm brushed against Jared’s thigh, as if by happy accident.

“Are you sure you don’t want something more?” Jared growled into Jensen’s ear.

Jensen sighed and fidgeted next to him, his ointment-slick skin slipped over Jared’s bare arm. He could sense the heat in Jared and hear his speeding breath. He let his voice drop to a husky whisper, “Only if you will let me fuck you.”

Jared barked a laugh, stood, and tugged Jensen to his feet. “Dream on. I’ll even let you jack off to that dream, as long as I can watch.” He smacked Jensen’s ass with a flat palm and the squelch of ointment.

“It’s not me who’s hard for it,” retorted Jensen.

Jared snapped the lid on the ointment. “I’m taking my shower. Don’t spy on me jerking off. You didn’t earn it.”

“I have a body to bury.” Jensen reminded him, and just like that, the playful mood was broken.

Jared bit his lip and looked down at the floor. He looked small in the moment. “Wear my old tee-shirt, and ask Corporal Hodge to escort you.”

 

***

  
  
  
He dug with a rhythmic clunk and thud of soil being displaced, and the corporal watched him. The earth was soft and peaty, easily cut with the large spade he was using. He side-eyed the compound fence and counted out the times between patrols, committing every detail to memory.   


“You’ve a helluva set of muscles for an accountant,” the corporal remarked when Jensen finally threw his tool to the side and jumped to sit on the edge of the hole.

Jensen swung his head to look up at Corporal Hodge, he needed to be careful, “I’m not anything,” he said dully. “I used to be someone, and I ran a lot and worked out, but I guess everyone got the file on me, huh?” He wiped sweat from his brow and swigged water from a plastic bottle.

“We’re told what we need to know, to keep the President safe.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh. I know you’re here on your family’s honor, and I know your weak spot is your little sister. If you check out of the deal early, then she gets to pay her own debt, and I bet she’s as pretty as you are.”

Jensen played his part, nodded sadly, “Have you got family?”

Corporal Hodge shuffled his feet, “Yeah, man.”

“Then you get it?”

“I know you won’t give us any proper trouble, and I think you might be good for the kid, if you can hold your tongue. He needs a friend,” he paused and added, “Or even a father-figure.” The corporal stopped talking abruptly, and frowned, “Shouldn’t have said that. Don’t repeat it.”

Corporal Hodge had no idea how wrong he was about him. Jensen was trouble with a capital C for coup, and it didn’t harm to have leverage within the President’s security detail. “Holding my tongue!” quipped Jensen. He flashed his brightest smile at the soldier.

Jensen said a short prayer over Fin as he filled the first cold soil over the boy. He felt no emotion, only a soldier’s obligation to show respect for somebody’s son, brother or friend. He briefly wondered when it had become so easy to detach the part of him that cared, and how long he had been that way.

 

  
  
  
Jared twirled his pen in his hand and sighed. The numbers on the page made no sense. There wasn't anyone else his age at the ranch, and the staff weren't permitted to help him. It crossed his mind to seek his father's advice, but he rapidly dismissed it. It would only anger him.   


He stood up and paced the quiet depths of the empty library, reading titles, and running his fingertips over the spines of books. He couldn’t concentrate, and it wasn’t because of equations he couldn’t solve. The slave, Jensen, unsettled him. Jared was seventeen, he understood enough to know that his dick ruled his mind a lot more than was good for him. Jensen wasn’t his type. Jared liked his conquests, small, submissive, and pliable, and this slave was none of those things, but he had wanted him from the moment he saw him. It was more than that though, he enjoyed his wit. Jared wanted more than sex, and he wasn’t sure he should explore the revelation. He stacked his books on the shiny oak desk before shutting his laptop down. He disconnected the network cable and stashed it carefully in its carrier. He didn’t want to lose his last link to sanity and the outside world.

Jensen was butt-naked and busy folding laundry when Jared returned to his room. Jared’s eyes roamed to the firm moons of his ass, where muscle rippled with every slight shift of his body. He barely avoided dropping the plate of sandwiches he was carrying, swallowed hard and raised his eyes quickly. “Y-you, don’t have any clothes on,” he stammered.

“They got muddy, so I washed them with your sports wear. I hope that’s alright.” Jensen turned to face Jared, full frontal and apparently without any self-consciousness.

Jared forced his gaze away from Jensen’s groin to focus on his face. He blushed crimson and had no idea where he suddenly acquired a stammer and an inability to maintain control around his naked slave, but his words weren’t coming out right, “Closet. Clothes. You should, you can take more, clothes. Now. Sweat pants and tee-shirt. Whatever fits.”

There was the faintest upturn to Jensen’s lips, as if he were trying not to laugh. Jared deposited his plate on the coffee table, turned and fled into the bathroom. The tap gushed and he splashed cold water on his face.

There was a rap on the door, “Jared, are you sick?”

“No, no,” Jared breathed deep and calmed himself, he was acting like a sixth grader, “I’m fine. Why don’t you find those clothes and I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Of course.”

Ten minutes later, he emerged flushed and breathless, and Jensen was waiting for him, casual in a black v-neck tee which was tight over his chest, and sweat pants that rested on his hips. Jared’s room was spotless. Rugs had been rearranged to cover the space where Fin had fallen and the air conditioning was set at a perfect temperature. There was a glass of iced soda by his sandwiches, and cushions were plumped ready for him to sit on the sofa. Jared was starting to see the merits in having in his own slave, except that now there was nothing to do. He plopped himself down, scattering the neatly arranged cushions.

Jensen knelt at Jared’s side. “Do you need anything?” His drawl was low and calming.

Jared’s fingers scraped through Jensen’s hair. It was soft, despite its short, spiked style. “I’m bored,” he said as he reached to stroke the top of his collar.

“What do you usually do?”

“I do my own tidying, course work, work-out, read,  play with Fin.” He was bored and restless, still angry with his father and frustrated with Jensen, for no obvious reason except his refusal to be intimate. He didn't know what he wanted to do.

“Sounds dull.”

“Not all of it.” Jared could feel Jensen lean into him with an involuntary shudder as his fingertip circled the sensitive nub at the top of his spine.

“You can play,” Jensen offered.

Jared drew breath.

“There’s a stack of X-Box games. Which should I put in for you?”

Jared breathed out with the hint of a laugh, “You bitch! Do you play CoD?”

Jensen looked up at him with creased brow.

Jared shook his head and his mop of hair moved with it, “Man. It is much more interesting with two. You did have a life, right? Before you got into the shit that put you in that collar.”

“Yeah, sort of boring, I wasn’t much into blowing people away.” Jensen picked up _Forza_ , “Now, fast cars, I get. Used to have …,” Jensen trailed off, “Doesn’t matter.” 

“You miss it? Your old life?” Jared was curious.

Jensen glared up at him, “No shit, Sherlock.”

Jared twisted a hand into his collar and jerked it in warning, tight enough to constrict Jensen's breath for a moment. Jensen lowered his eyes and Jared released it without a word.

Jared didn’t believe slavery was a nice choice to make, but it wasn’t like it was non-consensual in their country. People got into trouble, they had debts they couldn’t pay, or were convicted for minor crimes and didn't want to serve their time in the cut throat atmosphere of a Monkota prison. The regime got flak for their stance on slavery, but it was introduced years before his father came to power. “Some people don’t miss it,” he said, “The crap that’s out there; some never have homes or a bed. Their family gets money for food, or whatever. They get a place and regular meals. Statistically, it’s safer than prison. Having a purpose can restore confidence. A lot are content.”

“What are you, the slavery spin-doctor? Because, being less than a whore is such a confidence boost, and then we get our brains shot out.” Jensen sounded bitter.

Jared's hand yanked viciously at Jensen's collar once more, and he was tempted to hit him, but he sighed instead. He knew he'd told Jensen to speak out, but right now he couldn't handle his hate. “That shouldn’t have happened, but there was just as much chance of Fin being killed on the street if he was homeless.” He could feel Jensen’s stare and he didn’t want to clash with him again, “Didn’t your trainer tell you that talk-back and politics are banned for a slave? Put the damn racing game in, sit on the sofa, and grab a controller. I get first pick of car. One of those sandwiches is for you, so eat it.”

They sat close to see the screen. Their knees touched and Jensen was a substantial, warm presence by Jared's side, smelling earthy and cinnamon and male. They both leaned with the movement of their on-screen cars and it took them into each other's space in an easy way. Jared trash-talked Jensen and he got a thrill when Jensen trash talked back. The game was evenly matched and when it was down to the wire with just one race remaining Jared upped the ante. “If I win I get to kiss you,” he suggested.

Jensen scowled, “Are you always this horny?”

“I’m seventeen. It’s not like I can go to a bar or nightclub. We’re both stuck here.”

Jensen put his controller down and turned to face Jared, “Jared, I don’t know what you’re looking for but I’m not Fin. I am far too old for you. You should be smoking weed, getting drunk, and getting laid by someone your own age.  You’re a brat. I feel like a pervert just considering it.”

Jared ignored the insult. He almost bounced with excitement, “But I can’t go anywhere else, nor can you, and you _are_ considering it?”

“Jared …” Jensen palmed his face and shook his head, “Okay, how about, if you win, you get to kiss me and if I win, I get to kiss you, and that’s it. It’s just a kiss.”

The concept confused Jared, he replayed the words in his head, “That’s the same thing. I still get to kiss you,” he finally remarked.

“Oh, no baby boy, it's not the same thing _at all.”_ Jensen growled, and it sent a tingle down Jared’s spine that curled his toes.

“You’re on!”

Jensen's car skidded past the checkered flag seconds before Jared's. He put his controller down and looked at Jared. His open eye seemed to sparkle a little greener, and long eyelashes fluttered. “It was a silly bet and you own me. You don’t have to.”

“I’m not a pussy, Jensen. It’s just a kiss.”

Jensen’s grin was pure filth and promise. “You do have a very kissable mouth. Are you going to let me show you how the grown-ups play?”

_Jesus._ Jared’s thinking brain deserted him because _that_ was unexpectedly hot, and since when had he wanted to be anybody’s little bitch? He nodded soundlessly.

Jensen licked his lips and they shone, plump and enticing, “Lock the door, Jared.”

Jared’s senses returned. “I can’t, what if …,”

“Do you want anyone to see us kissing?” Jensen’s voice was, honey-sweet and soothing, “I was an accountant, that’s all. Not about to hurt anyone. Not even you.”

Jared crossed the room in three strides to key in the combination, and was back, standing by Jensen, arms hugged around himself like a shy schoolboy.

“Sit down, Jared.”

Jared sat awkwardly next to Jensen.

Fingers tangled in his hair and traced over his jaw. Jensen leaned in, hot breath on Jared’s neck, to whisper in his ear. “Relax. You’re my Master. You can stop me any time.”

Jared nodded his understanding, but he was already breathing fast, hyper aware of Jensen’s lips which brushed the skin of his neck in a series of feather light kisses and then developed into firm suction against the roughness of his chin. Jensen wrapped his large palm around Jared’s jaw and his thumb teased the side of Jared's mouth as he tilted his face up for better access. Jared took the hint and suckled wetly at the tip of Jensen’s thumb.

Jensen murmured encouragement, “Oh, who would have known? Such a baby boy for me.”

Jared thought he should feel some shame, but it was too good. When Jensen shoved him by his shoulders, into the back of the sofa, and hooked his leg over Jared’s lap he let it happen with a moan of approval, and his lips parted in invitation. Jensen’s mouth crashed down on his with a force he had never known. His lips were slick and demanding, and his tongue forced immediate access to explore every part of his mouth and wrap Jared’s tongue with suction, and the slightest nip of teeth.

This wasn’t amateur fumbling, or the tentative need to please by a slave for his master. It wasn’t anything he’d had before. Jared arched his back and pressed back. The sensation was overwhelming, like being devoured, and he couldn’t get his breath. Jensen didn’t stop, and Jared didn’t want him to. Rough skin with a hint of stubble rubbed sore against his face. He was sure his lips must be red and puffed. When Jensen finally pulled away with the soft smack of suction releasing, Jared was dizzy and gasping for breath, but his mouth chased for more. Jensen smoothed his thumb over his lips, collected the saliva that drooled there, pushed it between Jared’s lips, and let him suck it clean.

“Hmm. I don’t think you know yourself, Jared.” Jensen’s smug comment pulled Jared from his haze. He was suddenly cold. All contact with Jensen was lost as the man stood and adjusted his clothes, before reaching to slide the game disc from the consul, buffing it and replacing it in its cover.

“Huh,” Jared was lost for words. He was ridiculously turned on, thoroughly confused, and he wanted more, but it wasn’t the deal, and he wouldn’t push it. Most days he wasn’t a total douche-bag. “You should clear away the plate and organize Supper. I have to go and see Pa,” he flailed, looking for an excuse, “He gets antsy if he doesn’t have an opportunity to shout at me every day. You should stay here, away from him.”

“He said he didn’t want to see you,” Jensen remarked.

“He was drunk. He says that every time we argue. He’ll still be pissed if I don’t.” Jared knew it was true, even as he said it, and his arousal faded rapidly.

“Does that mean he will want me back?” Jensen looked anxious.

Jared didn’t glance at Jensen as he left the room. “God, no! If he hasn’t come for you, then he’s already replaced you.”

 

  
  
  
Jensen dabbed a finger to his mouth. The taste of Jared lingered on him. It was as if youth had its own flavor; minty, sweet and delicious. He thought it could be addictive. Did he taste that way once? Memories clamored to be heard, but he wouldn't listen. He pushed them into the darkest recess of his mind.   


He waited two minutes before he locked the door using the code Jared had inadvertently shown him. He grabbed the laptop bag to examine the contents. Sure enough, between the computer, the charger, and a pad of paper covered with math, he found a network cable. Jensen grinned and replaced it all before conducting a hands and knees search of the wall near to Jared’s television and games consul. He hit **_gold._** There was a connection. The President’s advisers wouldn’t risk Wi-Fi for the main system, but there was a possibility their network could be hacked using Jared’s log-in. The more Jensen got to know Jared, the more he believed his plan would work. The kid was spoiled, and unpredictable, with a poor sense of morality, but Corporal Hodge was right, Jared was lonely and needy for approval. Jensen could work with that.

Jensen double checked that everything was back in place. He unlocked the door and set off to the kitchen to collect Supper.

  



	4. Big Bang 2013: Have Hatred and Gravity Won - 3/19

Jared tugged on the chain leash as he unlocked it, and Jensen stretched and yawned on his thin floor mattress. Being chained to the wall like a dog, for hours at a time, was not a possibility Jensen considered when he took this assignment. President Padalecki’s son didn’t actually require much service. Jensen wasn't permitted to mix with other slaves, and Jared’s Pa had demanded that he be locked down every night, and whenever he was alone. He had to hand it to the old bastard; he had a sense of self preservation. It made Jensen’s task more difficult, but not impossible. As for Jared, well, he didn't bother to pretend that it didn't turn him on to have Jensen kneeling pretty on a leash for him. Considering the kid got a hard-on if Jensen as much as growled at him, he seemed to be experiencing some confusion. 

Jensen was five days into his mission. The optimum date for JD's attack was fourteen days, with a window of two days either side. His back was healing well, his bruises were gone, and he'd been provided with basic clothes that were old and worn soft, so they didn't chafe his skin. Jared's behavior remained erratic, but he hadn't disciplined Jensen with more than a collar-choke since the night of the banquet. Generally, Jared seemed to enjoy Jensen's company, and there was an easy affection developing. It was time for Jensen to step his game up another notch.

Jared ticked tasks off on the fingers of his right hand, “Cleaning, laundry, restock my fridge and coffee-maker, restock toiletries, clean the a/c filter. Don’t disturb me.” Jared threw himself flat on his bed with his math books strewn around him, stared at his page, and chewed on his pen. Every now and then, Jensen heard the rustle of paper being rolled into a ball, and the ‘phut’ of it hitting the side of the trash can. The kid was a good shot; Jensen rarely had to pick the debris of his failed homework off the floor.

“I can’t believe Pa makes me stay here while you work. You’re more trouble than you’re worth.” 

Jensen sprayed the shower cubicle with cleaning foam. He rolled his eyes, because he could. Jared had been in a sulk since breakfast, when he discovered his bacon was sweet-cured rather than smoked. Jensen thought Jared should get a lesson on how many people in Monkota couldn't afford breakfast at all, but it was in his interest to be sympathetic. He attempted to make him smile. “I’d be more fun if you let me work naked,” he offered. He didn't have to see Jared to know it would make him blush. “Or, I could kiss you for every math question you get correct,” he called out.

“How about I kiss you, if you shut up and let me concentrate?”

“Ha!” Jensen laughed, and rinsed the foam away. It was strange how easily they seemed to fit together. Jared had none of the cold formality of his father. If Jensen ignored the collar around his neck, his simmering resentment, and the mission in his head, he could almost pretend they were friends.

They worked in companionable silence until Jensen leaned over Jared to dust the picture above his headboard. “You know scribbling over it won’t solve the problem, right?”

Jared looked up and frowned, “It doesn't matter how many times I calculate, the sum is always wrong.”

“Maybe your Pa can help you?”

“It only makes him angry when I study. He thinks I should be in the army.”

Jensen sat next to Jared, on the bed. “You could go on-line with the problem.”

“Already tried that,” Jared huffed.

“I could help. Former accountant, n’all.” Jensen didn't regard himself as particularly good at math, but he knew enough to deal with explosives, armaments, speeds, and trajectories. He had watched Jared struggle with the topic for a few days and knew he could solve the questions. 

“Really? You’d do that for me?” Jared’s face shone with hope, and his smile formed dimples in his cheeks. Jensen felt his heart thaw to him, just a fraction.

“Of course. Shuffle over.”

They lay side by side on the bed, with their bellies to the covers and their elbows propping them up. Their heads bent together and body heat was shared, but their attention was on the numbers. Jensen worked through the first problem, and explained every step, before handing the pen to Jared and letting him calculate the next, with his guidance. 

“What will you do with your education?” Jensen asked, after the third problem was answered. 

Jared turned to lie on his side, facing Jensen, “I don’t know. I was going to study engineering. I had this stupid ambition that I would design something useful. I fancied myself as some sort of Roebling or Brunel.”

Jensen mirrored Jared’s position on the bed and they lay comfortably, a few inches from each other. “Why do you think it's stupid? You're too young to give up your dreams, Jared."

Jared smiled sadly. “How do you think this is going to end?” He gestured around him, indicating the compound in general.

“I don’t know. Why are you even here, Jared? Your mother took you away when you were nine, and you were safe living in the U.S. You can build rail track and bridges anywhere. Why would you come back?”

Jared looked wistful. “We were poor, and I didn't get on with our stepfather.” 

Jensen's gut twisted. He remembered the details of his own stepfather's face, his filthy breath, and the way his calloused fingers felt on his skin.  _No, please, stop. Ma, Ma, please_...  He closed his eyes but the images that haunted him were in his head. He had to ask, "Your stepfather... did he...hurt you?" A part of him wanted Jared to have felt the pain of abuse.

"No, god, no, he didn't hit me or anything, but he made it plain he didn't want me."

Jensen let his tension go with a shudder. "It still doesn't explain why you're here."

“When I was little, Pa was a factory worker, a shop steward with political aspirations. He spent a lot of time with me. He would help with my homework. Sometimes, on days off, he would take me fishing or camping. When he was around, it felt safe, and most of the time it was fun. When Ma died, he visited without any fuss or entourage, and he cried. You shouldn't believe all the crap the media spout. Marriages fail, and they were in the spotlight."

Jensen nodded. 

Jared continued, “Pa offered to fund school. He asked if I wanted to go home with him. I’m a teenager. Who wouldn't right? He’s the freakin’ President. There was a swimming pool, and parties, girls, alcohol and slaves.” He paused, "…and I missed him," he admitted reluctantly.

“Your brother and sister, Megan and Jeff didn't come.” Jensen worded it softly.

“Yeah, I didn't listen.” Jared shut his eyes, and when they opened again, they were wet, “He’s changed. I mean, he was always driven, and that’s good isn’t it? He wants the best for everyone. It’s stressful for him. The people around him, they manipulate him. He didn't used to be intolerant. Politics does that to a person, suppresses what they are, in favor of what they need to be. What you've seen, that’s us at our worst. There are better days.”

Jensen laid his hand over Jared’s and Jared curled his fingers back into it, “He’d let you go back though?” he asked

Jared scowled at him, “It's not safe to travel. I’m not a hostage!” The retort was heated and fast.

“Of course,” Jensen soothed. He rubbed calming circles into the back of Jared’s hand with his thumb.

“He’s still my father. He still loves me. He’s not a monster, and he isn't evil.”

Jensen had a whole list of rebuttals for Jared's arguments. He had to wonder how Jared could deny his own treatment at his father’s hands, but it wouldn't get him where he wanted. He stayed calm, and let the kid grip his hand and keep talking. He listened avidly, taking care to memorize every detail, from the names of Jared’s childhood pets, to his engineering ambitions of dams and bridges. Over time he let the gap between them close, until he could feel the warmth of Jared’s body, and sense goose-bumps on his skin.

Eventually Jensen felt the heat of Jared's stare. He looked up into serious hazel eyes. “You’re a good listener. Do you have children?” 

“No. I had a niece, but she’s just a baby. I don’t want her to know about me. Slaves don’t have their own family. You’re my family now, Jared.”

Fingertips reached to trace Jared’s mark on Jensen’s cheek. It itched and burned. “No, you’re mine,” reminded Jared, “I should hate what I did to you, and what happened to Fin, but I don’t. I like having you.”

If Jensen was developing any sympathy for Jared, then that admission swept it away on a landslide of  _selfish_. None of it was about feelings though, Jensen was sure he kept those locked away safely, where even he could no longer find them. Jensen brought their clasped hands to his lips and kissed Jared’s fingers. “You’re a good son. You deserve more.”

Jared’s cheeks tinged just a little more pink and he wriggled close to whisper in Jensen’s ear. “I got three math questions right.” He took a deep breath as Jensen licked a stripe up his neck and playfully delved a wet tongue in his ear. He continued with a slight shake in his voice, “I keep thinking about the way you kissed me before, and being your  _baby boy_.”

Jensen silently congratulated himself on his tactics. “Does my baby boy want a reward?”

Jared nodded eagerly. 

“Lock the door, take off your shirt, and come back to me, Jared.”

“Really?” Jared looked surprised, and made no move.

“There’s a limit to the amount of teasing a man can take from a  _Lolita_  like you.” Jensen dragged his fingers down Jared’s neck, and circled his nipples under the fabric of his tee shirt, “You have been shaking that ass at me from the moment you claimed me.” 

Jared’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, “If we did …if I liked it… you wouldn't tell anyone, would you? How it is with us?”

Jensen unhooked their hands and smoothed a palm over Jared’s shoulder, “Jared, you should have worked out, by now, that I wouldn't do this just because I can, because you own me, or because you can punish me. Yes, you’re young and sexy, but I care about you. I wouldn't hurt you that way. You do get that, don’t you?” Jensen widened his eyes, and tilted his head to appear innocent and loyal. 

“Okay, um,” Jared pushed himself up and crossed the room to lock the door. He slipped his tee over his head, and posed awkwardly.

Jensen sat on the edge of the bed. He chewed his lip. This part of the job was going to be a reward of its own. He was in control, and he wasn’t on the clock, or answerable to any Madam. He was going to enjoy every single moment, including the one at the very end, when Jared finally experienced what it was like to be deceived, discarded and left to die, in horror and pain. He pulled on all of his experience and crooked a finger to beckon the kid forward. Jared stood awkwardly in front of him, with his hands folded over his chest.

“No, don’t hide from me.” Jensen grasped Jared’s hands, and brought them down by his side, “Leave them there until I tell you.”

Jared curled his fingers into his palms, his pupils dilated with arousal, and it was matched by the growing bulge in his pants. 

The buckle of Jared’s belt rattled as Jensen unfastened it and flipped his pants button open. He looked up into Jared’s face as he yanked the zipper down tooth by tooth, revealing a long, thick cock, straining to be free.  He could appreciate it. “Oh, baby boy, it looks like you're jonesing for more than a kiss.” He pulled Jared’s pants down, over his pert, rounded ass, all the way to his knees, before dipping in to kiss the smooth head of his dick. “I bet you've been blown six ways to Sunday by willing slaves. Did you ever repay the favor?”

There was an embarrassed shuffle. Jared shook his head. 

“Take them off.” Jensen gestured to the pants around his knees and Jared fumbled to obey, hopped and pulled at them, almost toppling in his haste. “Hey! No hurry!” He steadied Jared with a firm grip around the indent of his hips. “How many times have you been told that you’re beautiful?” Jensen pressed light kisses to his navel, reveling in the involuntary shiver he caused. There was another small shake of Jared’s head and for a second Jensen thought it was a pity, but beauty is more than a body. “You  _are_ stunning, Jared,” he affirmed. He patted the bed by his side. “I think you've earned those kisses. Now, sit by me!”

  
Jensen’s clothes were rough against Jared’s bare skin. His slave’s strong hand cupped the back of his neck and tugged his hair. His mouth crushed Jared's lips and sucked his tongue with heated demand. This was nothing like he’d ever done before. Jared was vulnerable and excited, with everything bared, and everything to lose. The ones he fucked before were mere appetizers, because this felt like his first time. There was an illicit thrill in believing in this man, this mere property who kept him wanting. He craved him, and it made him crazy, and it made him hard. It was only days since he whipped Jensen, yet he fell into his arms and trusted him to break the plummet. Jared gasped for breath between kisses, one hand reached for his needy dick and Jensen slapped it away, “Not yet,” he murmured into Jared’s mouth.

Jared reached to Jensen’s neck to slip his fingers around the circle of his slave’s collar and yanked his head back with force, to end their kiss.

Jensen stilled. His slick lips shone where they parted, “You seriously want to play that card, Jared? Because I will stop, and this will be over. Do you want to stop? Or will you trust me?”

“Stop and I will punish you,” Jared threatened. 

“Oh, baby boy, your tantrum would cost you every bit of intimacy we have built. Fucking me would be the same as every other slave you've screwed; cold and empty.”

Jared whimpered. He knew he was being impatient, but he was horny and desperate and unused to the tease of waiting. He couldn't lose Jensen’s attention now. He pressed back to Jensen to plead with him, “I _need_  it, god you have to touch me, but I’ll wait, I’ll trust you.  _Need you_ , please don’t stop.”

“You have to be sure. I won’t do this without consent.”

Jared curled into him and kissed his neck above and below his collar, “I consent. Now, please, please...,” he whined.

Jensen’s hands smoothed over his shoulders and continued down his back, tracing a delicious tingle down his spine. Fingers kneaded his ass cheeks and then scraped a nail-sharp path up his thigh. Jensen cupped Jared’s balls in his hand, squeezed them to just one side of painful. “Beautiful,” he growled, before dipping in to ravish Jared’s mouth again. He took Jared’s hands and put them on his zipper. Jared fumbled to release Jensen’s cock from his briefs but Jared was enthusiastically stroking it in a matter of minutes. The skin was velvet soft and warm. It was a satisfying size and weight in his hand and he jacked it from the slit beading with pre-come, over an impressive length to Jensen’s round and heavy sacs. Suddenly, Jensen's lips were gone and his fingers were in Jared’s mouth, tasting of salt and skin. "Get my hand nice and wet, gonna make you feel good."

Jared panicked and jerked his head back, leaving his mouth empty, "I've got lube."

Wet fingers stroked his cheek, "Hey. No. Not going to fuck you today. We're going to take it slow. I promise I'll make you feel good." 

Jared’s body wasn't thrilled with the revelation. It was sure he was ready, but he knew Jensen was right; there had been a little fear. He wondered if it hadn't turned him on almost as much as his touch, but it was every bit as exciting, knowing that Jensen was going to take care of him. He licked his lips and opened his mouth to enthusiastically lick and suck Jensen's hand.

"Sshh, baby." Jensen nipped Jared’s lip when he started to cry out and grind his cock into Jensen’s willing, wet, hand. Jensen's touch was  _holy fuck_ incredible. It was like he had a map to every nerve ending. It was slow and steady, then firm and fast. Jensen dipped into the slit at the head and yet explored the base by his taint. He jacked to the throb of the veins that filled it so hard, and twisted his fingers under the head of his cock until Jared thought he could see stars. Whenever it got too intense and orgasm threatened, Jensen slowed or stopped, squeezed the base of Jared's cock and refused to let him climax, while his other hand roamed with electric touch, over Jared’s chest and neck, and into his hair, and pressed every sensitive spot until he shivered. Jensen kissed him like he was trying to steal breath. Jared was on edge, begging for release but he didn't want it to end, and Jensen wouldn't let him rush.

Fucking  _finally,_ when Jared was a writhing mess, and he thought his balls might explode with pressure, Jensen whispered a husky command in his ear, "Come for me." He felt like he had been waiting so long; he had been thinking about sex with Jensen since their first kiss. The anticipation had built to this, and now his senses were overloaded. He was an over eager teenager, about to blow his load. There was no thought for Jensen‘s needs, he couldn't wait. His orgasm consumed him with dizzying white ecstasy. He shuddered as come roped over Jensen’s hand, and onto his stomach. “Holy shit!” were the only words that made it past his lips. 

 

Jared was still panting and delirious when Jensen sat up on the edge of the bed with his legs splayed wide, and maneuvered Jared until he was on the floor, kneeling in the vee of his legs. Jensen grasped his hair and pulled his head forward until Jared’s mouth was level with his erect cock. He thumbed Jared's lips apart to feed the tip of his eager, fat cock into his mouth. Jared tried to pull back but fingers tightened in his hair and he was urged forward, "You know you want something to suck on."

The taste was strange but not unpleasant. Jared swirled a tongue around the girth and sucked experimentally. It could have been the effect of his orgasm-high, but he thought he liked the weight on his tongue and the soft skin that slid over his lip into the hot cavity of his mouth. He sucked in his cheeks and hummed, as others had done for him. 

Jensen threw back his head and swore, “Christ! You’re better than I imagined. A sweet and dirty boy.” 

Jared wondered how it looked; the little bitch, on his knees for his slave.

When Jensen started to thrust into his mouth Jared choked, then misjudged, and Jensen’s rigid dick battered the inside of his cheek. Jensen guided Jared’s hand to his shaft, showed him how to keep control. Itdidn't take long before Jensen was filling his mouth with his seed, tilting Jared's chin to keep it in, and encouraging him to swallow. It was salty, warm and slightly bitter and Jared gagged. He swallowed once, and the rest dribbled from the side of his mouth. He hardly noticed Jensen’s open mouthed pleasure or the way he cleaned himself with a tissue and tucked himself back in. Jared remained naked in the company of his fully clothed slave. 

Strong arms lifted him onto the bed and cuddled him under the covers. Jared couldn't believe he was fucked out, like never before, after a hand job. It felt so good. He couldn't keep his eyes open, but he felt the soft wipe of a face cloth cleaning him, and the tender kisses Jensen placed on his eyelids. He was secure, tucked into the old cotton of Jensen’s shirt, being rocked to the rhythmic lullaby of Jensen’s heartbeat.

“Sshh. So good, baby boy. Rest now.”

Jared closed his eyes and let sleep surround him.

  
Jared loved his dogs and his siblings, Jensen loved that about him, because guessing his passwords was a cinch. Jared also loved gaming, and Jensen loved that particular detail even more, because apparently, Jared had already hacked a tiny door through presidential security, in the name of World of Warcraft.  _God bless boys and their need for toys._  He only had to hope that his team’s resident geek, Danneel, was feeling the need to kick dragon ass and investigate messages from Winchester, the green eyed mage.

Jensen worked with his tongue between his teeth, on the floor of Jared’s bedroom by the TV and games console. A clutter of DVDs and game ephemera surrounded him. He finished with a click of the last internet tab, and deleted his browser history. 

The sound of fabric rustling, and a cough, was sudden, unexpected, and terrifying. “Jensen?” 

_Shit!_  Jared was supposed to sleep for longer than that. Jensen’s heart sped. He closed his eyes and offered a short prayer, but he couldn't afford to freeze. Being caught wasn't an option, because he wanted to keep his toenails and his liver intact. He ensured that his body blocked Jared’s view of the open laptop, and he flicked a large duster in his hand, using the movement as a distraction. With the other hand, he picked up a can of polish and sprayed it liberally around the television.

“Whatcha doin’?” Jared’s voice was slurred and sleepy.

“I didn't finish my chores. The dust in this corner is appalling.” He lifted a pile of boxed games from the shelf and made a show of wiping them, before making a stack on the floor, to further hide his activity.

“S’the static,” yawned Jared. “Mm. You’re very good at what you do, Jensen.” Jared laughed, and added a wickedly voiced and more wakeful, “ _Everything that you do_.” 

Jensen used two fingers behind the polish to disconnect the network cable and push it under the TV stand. He was feeling sick with every additional moment that passed with him exposed. The laptop screen clicked down, but the noise was covered by his sudden activation of the television, which blared with the gunfire and music of an old western.  

“Holy hell! Turn the volume down before the sentries think that’s real.” 

“Sorry, caught the button.” Jensen held the duster up in his defense, and leaned to turn the TV off. He palmed the remote control in a smooth move, and within moments it was in position for him to retrieve it at the same time as the network cable. He might not be a real-life mage, but he knew a thing or two about misdirection and illusion.

“Finish up there and make me some coffee. I’m wiped.” Jared’s head flopped back onto his pillow, and he closed his eyes. “Wake me up when it’s ready,” he added.

Jensen exhaled and let his breath steady. Games were replaced on shelves, and Jared’s laptop was back in exactly the same position as Jared always left it.

Two tablespoons of freshly ground Arabica, a teaspoon of sugar, a shot of caramel, and frothed milk, with a sprinkle of chocolate, smelled like heaven, and tasted even better. Jared sipped at it, and hummed his appreciation. “You should try it. It’s awesome,” he encouraged Jensen.

Jensen mimicked sticking his fingers down his throat. “It’s an explosion of sugar and froth, and a travesty to all coffee-kind,” he asserted.

Jared twirled his finger and pointed at his slave, “I bet you like yours dark and bitter.”

“Yup,” grinned Jensen. 

Jared watched the carved initials,  _JP_ , shift on the man’s cheek as he smiled. It was healing, but the scar would remain. It didn't detract from Jensen’s beauty, only added to the thrill of knowing this strong, sexy man was his. Jared wondered if this is what a crush felt like. He hoped it never went away. “You can have coffee. Make yourself one whenever you want,” he offered.

Jensen poured a mug of thick black brew, and inhaled deep before tipping it back and savoring it. His lips circled the side of the mug, his neck elongated, and his throat pulsed obscenely as he gulped. He closed his eyes, as if in prayer and his eyelashes fluttered onto freckled cheeks.

Jared watched him. “Jesus! That’s positively pornographic, Jensen.” 

“I've missed coffee,” Jensen admitted.

“It must be the fuel that accountants run on, eh?”

“Huh?” Jensen seemed confused for a moment, but he recovered. “Oh, yeah, definitely! I might have been addicted.”

Jared thought about the simple things Jensen must have taken for granted once. The collar around his slave’s neck suddenly seemed crueler than he had ever considered. “You can always have coffee, as long as I get to watch the show.”  He patted Jensen on the shoulder, “If there’s anything else, any little thing that you miss, you can always ask. As long as it’s reasonable.” Jared waited for the expected retort about freedom. It was a relief when Jensen didn't rise to the opportunity. 

“How about what you miss?” Jensen’s green eyed gaze seemed to bore into him. “Don’t you ever want sunshine on your skin, or to feel the wind in your hair? This place has to feel like a prison for you.”

Jared shrugged. The compound drove him crazy, but it did include miles of woodland and lake, carefully monitored by cameras and microphones. It was large enough to be lonely, and intrusive enough to feel like confinement. He wasn't stupid though, outside the gates was civil unrest and danger, and he was a prime target. Some days were better than others, but there hadn't been any good days in a while. He considered the options. “I used to ride, but the horses have been taken somewhere quieter. There’s a fishing lodge by the lake. It's nice there, but it’s no fun on my own.”

“So, take me. It’s what I’m for isn't it? To serve and amuse you?” Jensen’s head was tipped in question and he looked earnestly at Jared. “I could pack a picnic, and coffee in a thermos, and you can pretend to be deep in yeti country, just for the day. It would be good for you.”

“Do you even fish?”

“You can teach me. It’ll be fun. You’re seventeen Jared. You do remember fun, don’t you?”

“Do  _you_  want to go fishing, Jensen?” Jared asked with a chuckle.

“Hell, yeah! I want to see you in daylight. I need proof that you aren't a vampire.” 

“I’d have to activate the shock capability on your collar.”

“I’m not intending to scale any fences, or swim. I think I can handle it.” Jensen frowned and corrected himself, “Assuming the thing doesn't malfunction. The shock won’t go off on its own will it?”

“It will only activate if I want it to.” 

Jensen looked nervous.

“Relax, I won’t.” 

Jensen bounced on his heels. “Good. What day will I make arrangements for?”

His enthusiasm gave Jared a warm glow, and he didn't have to think about it. He felt light and happy, with something to look forward to. “We’ll go next Thursday,” he answered, “There is always a big military meeting on Thursdays, so there'll be nobody at the lake, and no-one to snitch on us." He paused, and added, "And we’ll take beer.”


	5. Big Bang 2013: Have Hatred and Gravity Won - 4/19

  
Five days later, it was Thursday, and rain lashed down from a gray sky.  


“Seriously?” Jensen’s backpack was heavy, and the ill-fitted straps bit into his shoulder. He let his footing slip on the root-bumpy and sodden ground of the forest, and his cheap sneakers squished unpleasantly in cloying mud. Jared dropped his leash and reached a hand to steady him.

Jared, of course, carried none of the supplies for their fishing trip. That is what a slave is for. A trained soldier could easily take it in his stride, but Jensen struggled in the downpour. Rain gathered in his hair. It dripped in rivulets down the back of his neck, and over his face. Drops weighed on his eyelashes, and he blinked them away. “You really want to go for a picnic in _this_?” he protested.

Jared’s substantial boots gave him traction on the slippery surface, his raincoat gleamed, and a trail of water drained from the brim of his Tilley hat. He chuckled, “Don’t be a baby, Jensen. It doesn’t frighten the fish away. In fact they’re more active. This was your idea, so suck it up.”

Jensen shifted his pack and continued. Jared rolled up his leash and tucked it into the pocket of the soaked jacket Jensen wore. “Should you do that?” Jensen asked.

Jared scrutinized his slave, then turned his back, to resume hiking. “Even you’re not stupid enough to think you’d get far in these conditions.”

Jensen rushed, with small, cautious steps, to keep up with him. His first impression of the lake was that it was man-made specifically for a rich man’s hobby. At about a mile wide, it was beautiful in an orderly, and landscaped way. Gravel paths surrounded it, interconnecting with both open and sheltered fishing spots. There were picnic tables, barbecues and trash cans. A huge lodge stood by the tapered end of the lake where a dock, with ready-fitted rod supports, jutted into deep water. Jensen’s eyes narrowed at Jared, “There’s a direct, dry path, to get here, isn’t there? We didn’t even come far, did we?”

Jared’s lips quirked up even as he tried to look contrite, “Well, we might have done a complete 360 to get here. You wanted an adventure!” he pointed out. “At least there are towels and shelter at the end of this one.”

Jensen didn’t bother to hide his eye-roll.

“C’mon, get inside. You can unpack and dry off, and I can find umbrellas and seats, rods, and jig lures.” Jared unlocked the door and held it open for him. Jensen dropped his pack clumsily by the door while he looked for signs of surveillance. A sophisticated system of powered cameras and microphones were obvious in the wooded area of the lake, and a lens focused on the main door of the lodge. Jensen picked his pack up again to deposit it on the pine luggage rack that stood near the door. He looked around the lodge and whistled.

“This is _some_ fishing cabin,” he commented. There were antique rods and reels mounted on the walls with stuffed fish in glass cases and autographed photographs of politicians from all over the world, posing proudly with fish on hooks and in their arms. More relevant to Jensen, at that moment, was the apparent lack of internal surveillance and a door that opened into a huge pine-clad sauna and shower room.

Jared ambled out of it with a giant fluffy towel and proceeded to tug the wet jacket from Jensen, “Here, get that off. There are raincoats and boots in the mud room.” He proceeded to wrap the towel around Jensen and rub his hair and face dry. Jensen stood meekly and let him.

“There’s a portable heater kicking around here somewhere. See if you can find it. Unpack the sandwiches and beer, I’m starving.”

Jensen looked around the compact kitchenette with its two burner range, an assortment of dishes and a coffee maker. “You let me pack a thermos of coffee when there’s electricity?” Jensen sounded exasperated, but he had already noticed that the surveillance ran off some sort of wired power grid.

Jared poked his head out from the cupboard he was rummaging in. “I didn’t want to ruin the surprise.” His cheeky grin made him look young and adorable. It wasn’t hard to find Jared attractive. Considering the thick deerskin rug by the open fire-place and the well-appointed bedroom, it was probably a good thing. There was no way that Jared didn’t have something more than fishing planned for them. 

 

***

  
  
Jared chose to fish from the dock. He erected a gigantic camouflage canopy that sheltered both of them from the rain, and then he set about demonstrating the Shimano rod with its reel and strong nylon line. Jensen made the appropriate noises for an amateur and chose a frog popper, to fish for Black Bass at the surface. He had a suspicion that the bass would more likely be at depth or idling under the jetty at this time of year, but who didn’t want to try and hop a little green frog lure over the water, on their first time out? Jared scoffed and called him cute, then chose a rainbow-bright plastic grub for his own hook.  


Learning to cast saw Jensen tangling the line around a post with Jared in tears of laughter. When Jared gathered his calm, he stood flush to Jensen’s back and guided his arms to flick and lightly drag. Warm breath tickled Jensen's neck, and when he got the technique just right, Jared placed a soft-lipped kiss under his ear before moving away to let his protégé practice on his own. The first time Jensen’s line ducked under and his line reeled wildly, Jared stood with him to alternately tease and coach him. Jensen fought with the _monster_ of a fish before finally landing it, with a wet slap, on the wooden boards while falling backwards onto his ass, on the same decking.

“Wow, how do you manage to catch trout when we’re fishing for Bass? Must be at least a pound,” smiled Jared, and Jensen could see his body convulsing with laughter.

“Hey, trout’s good eating I’ll have you know,” Jensen sulked.

Holding on to the wriggling, slick fish was much harder then he imagined. It made an enormous last effort as the hook was removed from its mouth and leaped over the side of the jetty, back into the water with a splash.

“That will be why you kill the fish _before_ you take it off the hook,” Jared advised smugly and too late.

Time passed peacefully. Jensen appreciated being outdoors, enjoying a free man's pastime. He thought Jared had started to see him as a friend and confidante. Yeah, it was clear that Jared had a big ass crush on Jensen, but it was cute rather than creepy. The times Jensen spent on a goddamn _leash_ , in Jared’s ownership were the product of parental pressure rather than selfishness. Jensen, the accountant, would want this; he might even fall for Jared’s charm. Ross the soldier, was hidden deep in him. He would be appalled by Jensen's lack of survival skills.

Gradually, the patter of rain on the nylon canopy lessened, and gray clouds thinned to reveal patches of blue. There was a fresh scent in the air, and on the other side of the lake a goose honked. Jared watched the water and scanned the sky. Jensen watched Jared. The kid's worry lines smoothed out and the hazel of his eyes became softer and green. He was mellow in a way Jensen had never seen. He wondered if this was the way Jared would have been, if he had stayed in America.

They both turned their heads to the South to listen to the steady _chop-chop_ of a helicopter in the no-fly zone, turning in toward the compound. Jared tensed, “Ours,” he said with a slight trace of doubt.

“How can you tell?” asked Jensen.

“I dunno. The ones Quintas uses sound heavier. The Revolutionaries don’t have anything in the air as far as I know,” he paused, then added, “…yet.”

 

  
  
Jensen’s senses were heightened. He tracked the noise of the helicopter as it veered direction. _Crazy Ivan maneuver,_ but why was nobody firing? Jared was right about Quintas. The gunships he used were heavy in armory and artillery, and this was a lighter sound. It didn’t make it right, the thing was too low and too erratic and it had an engine stutter. A faint ‘pop’ blew in on a wind current from the direction of the ranch. It preceded the staccato fire of artillery at the edge of the compound, by moments. Jensen grabbed Jared’s arm and shoved him low under the shelter of the canopy.   


“Wha ..?”

“Sshh! Stay still!” Jensen's reactions were automatic. He punched the fishing rods out of their holders and aimed a sweeping kick at the picnic basket and beer bottles. They slid under the surface of the lake, making shadowy ripples in gray water. He crawled under the camouflage at the very moment the helicopter crested the trees to arc over the lake. This wasn’t his team. It sure as hell wasn’t Quintas, because he wasn’t going to attack the President while he was paying millions of dollars for JD’s team to do it for him. The markings identified it as one of the President’s diplomatic fleet, but it was beaten up and over-crewed. A churning instinct in his stomach told him it wasn’t the President’s own men. That left the wild card of unpredictable and factional revolutionaries. In layman’s terms, if this was an attack on the compound, it screwed his mission, and was every bit as bad news for Jensen as it was for Jared Padalecki.

Jared shivered next to him. Jensen took his hand and held it in his own. “Is there a shelter in the Lodge?” The kid looked up at him wide-eyed and open mouthed but no words came out. “Jared, there has to be a panic room or cellar…”

The _chop-chop_ of the helicopter cut out somewhere close, and there was brief, grim, silence. Jensen pulled Jared up by his hand, with sheer force.

“RUN. Jared. WITH ME.”

Jared was alabaster-pale and motionless. Jensen tugged at him again, and Jared's legs stepped after him as the first ripple of explosion shook the ground and lit the sky. Gunfire boomed and resounded. Jared got with the program and sprinted.  
They reached the Lodge in a tangle of arms and legs. Jensen wasn't paying attention to the way they got there, just that they did. There was a high pitched electrical hum that seemed to travel inward to them. He flicked his eyes up to the progression of surveillance cameras on the electrical loop, he watched the display as one after another they fizzed and sparked into disorder like carnival fireworks. There was no delay in his retrieval of the kitchen fire extinguisher. Any possible fire from the door camera was extinguished before it started. Jared secured the Lodge door with fumbling hands.

Jared gulped and finally spoke with a tremble, “There’s a panic room in the cellar. It’s always stocked. The comms and lock should be on a separate loop.”

“Okay. We grab everything that might give us away. Empty the kettle, dry the sink, put towels and rugs straight, and we get down there. You with me?”

“Yeah.” Jared’s hair stuck out at every angle as he nodded his understanding.

“Hurry.”

They made it to the panic room in four and half minutes. Jensen was secretly impressed.

 

  


  
  
Jensen checked the lock again and sat on a bunk in the guard room. He kicked off his sneakers and rubbed his toes. “Ultramarine,” he said, continuing the game he had started.   


Jared knew Jensen was trying to keep him calm.“Violet,” he replied, with a shake in his voice.

“You’ve played this before. Xanthic.”

“Yellow. So have you!” Jared would have laughed, but he wasn’t sure anything was funny. He wondered how Jensen could be so relaxed, when all they could do was to wait, and there was no way to tell what would be outside the door when they finally emerged. The alphabet game wasn’t enough to distract him from the terror of his imagination. “How did you know what to do? Why did you save me?” Jared wondered.

“This place is huge. We could play baseball. I bet there’s a ball.” Jensen was deliberately avoiding the question.

Jared's eyes flickered around the alcove they were in and took in the sight of the comms desk. A spaghetti-muddle of unfinished repairs was a graphic reminder of the predicament they were in. “Jensen! I asked a question. You know you have to answer me.” If Jared was short tempered, it was onlybecause the whole situation was _stressful_.

Jared saw Jensen’s jaw stiffen and there was a brief flash of resentment. He remembered that he was alone with this older, strong and capable man, who had been used and punished by him. So far, Jensen had been gentle, efficient and funny. He didn’t think of him as a slave any more, not really. He was sure he was little in love with him, and thought there might be a reciprocal spark from Jensen, but realistically, there was no reason to believe in his unconditional loyalty. He stuffed his hand into his pocket, to curl his fingers around the reassuring shape of the remote controller for Jensen’s shock collar.

Jensen didn't miss the action. He tutted. “ _For fuck’s sake_! I could have left you out there, pissing your pants, and you’re thinking of using _that thing_ on me? You sure inherited your daddy's manners.”

Jared could feel his cheeks heating up, “Sorry,” he mumbled with lowered gaze.

Jensen ran his hands through his hair, his shoulders dropped and his tone softened, “It's okay. I know you're freaked, and it makes me nervous. One thing my slave training taught me, was that I don't like being shocked. Rolling around on the ground without bladder control is humiliating. I don't suppose you'd consider putting it out of reach?”

Jared took the control out of his pocket. He turned it in his hand, reluctant to let go of the small symbol of safety. “Why did you save me, Jensen?” he needed to know.

Jensen stood up. He continued to run his hands through his hair and rub the back of his neck. “I need a coffee. We'll investigate the stores.”

“What if someone tries to get in and we're not ready?”

“Then it will be your father, or it won't, and if it's not, then whatever we do, it won't be enough. If they are strong enough to take the compound and its garrison, then we are no match. In that event, I am going to put my hands high and surrender, and suggest you do the same. You have to hope that your dual nationality means something to the U.S. If you're very lucky you might be a bargaining chip.”

Jared felt suddenly faint as he thought about his status. He had never let himself dwell on it before, but here he was, with a good possibility that this was the end of the line for his Pa, and therefore for him. He sat up, “Do you think …?” he started, but the words stuck in his throat. Then, Jensen was in front of him, crouching to look him in the eye, taking his hand in his own.

“You can't afford to think like that, Jared. You're not your Pa. You're not involved in the politics of this place. You're not even in the army. The compound is well defended and the army will give everything it has. If it doesn't work out, then we'll make a run for it, and we _will_ make it. Do you understand me?”  Jensen nodded slowly, as if willing Jared to copy the action, and Jared did. Jared let Jensen take the shock control from his hand and place it on the defunct comms unit. A large friendly hand led him deep into the bunker.

The kitchenette was similar to the one in the main lodge but there were vast cold-stores with cans, jars and packets of every sort. Jensen grabbed stove gas, a pot, a catering pack of filter coffee and another of creamer. Jared lifted two items from the shelves in disbelief, and held them up for Jensen to see, “Apparently, we're stocked for every eventuality.”

Jensen's eyebrows rose high, and he shook his head at the can of caviar and box of condoms, “Because a panic room,” he corrected himself, “No, panic _bunker, is_ the obvious place for a romantic dinner a deux,” he said sarcastically.

“Nobody wants to die a virgin.” Jared looked at Jensen as he spoke, then blushed and looked away.

Jensen sniffed at the water before he filled the pot. " _You_ are no virgin!"

"Not in the strictest sense, but in some ways...," Jared fluttered his eyelashes as he spoke.

Jensen's hand was rough with speckles of ground Arabica, and it smelled of fish, coffee and rain. He grabbed Jared's chin and tilted it to look in his face, "Nobody's going to die. Do you hear me? We are _not_ going to die here."  His hand dropped away and Jared felt the loss of its reassurance. Jensen opened drawers and cabinets and he gave Jared one of his trademark grins, "If they have forgotten the can-opener, then I swear I will get out of here alive, just to kill every one of them." He continued with a soft smile, even as his hand curled around a basic can-opener and lifted it triumphantly. "Okay, they get to live another day!" he announced.

Jared _hmphed_ with a watery smile. He wondered if they really would. He knew all of his father's security team. Most of them were like Corporal Hodge, ordinary, decent men and women, with a sense of duty, and families to support. There was no doubt they were fighting right now, possibly dying or dead already; sacrificing themselves for the President and his government cronies, some of whom were entitled, irresponsible, assholes. _Oh God!_ A voice in his head supplied a fragmented memory, _"You get to live another day, Jay."_ Jared stumbled into the washroom, to puke into the self-composting toilet. The memory of dark eyes and dark hair, a soft pink mouth and softer curves assaulted him and he wanted touch her, _Sophie,_ but she wasn't there and never would be again.

"Jared?" Jensen appeared behind him with coffee and a back rub. "Rinse your mouth out with this. We shouldn't drink any of the water unless it's boiled."

Jared sloshed some around his mouth and spat it out. "Sorry."

"What for? A normal reaction to stress. Not like I haven't seen you do it before."

Jared closed his eyes. Of course he had. Jensen had seen what happened to Fin, and Jensen had cleaned up his mess. Was that really only ten days ago? Jared didn't deserve sympathy and he had to wonder why Jensen still comforted him.

"C'mon, there's a couch. You should sit."

Jared allowed himself to be manipulated over to the deep leather sofa. Jensen grabbed cushions and throws, to make a nest for Jared, then knelt at his feet to remove Jared’s boots. On any other day Jared’s thoughts would be obscene. Instead, all he felt was bone deep exhaustion and gratitude. He voiced his question once more, "Why? Why are you being nice to me?"

Jensen sat back on his heels. He seemed to think about the question. "I'm still your slave. There is every possibility that when that door opens, my circumstances will be the same. I have nothing to gain by being troublesome, and everything to lose."

Jared pulled the throw up to his chin and curled his feet onto the sofa, away from Jensen's touch. He couldn't pretend he wasn't disappointed with his answer. "You could have left me there," he pointed out.

"After you took me on a picnic and showed me how to fish? That would have been impolite. Besides, I like you in one piece. So many more things I can do to you," Jensen joked lightly, and placed a flat palm on Jared's knee. "Like it or not, I'm stuck with you. I have no aspiration to be one of Quintas's whores, and I'm dead meat to the maniacs who claim to have the interests of ordinary people at heart."

Jared didn't understand his reasoning, "I don't deserve your help. You could join them." he insisted.

"What do you think your slaves did, when you fled your mansion? Do you even understand the process a slave goes through to be in Presidential service, Jared?"

He had never given it much thought. In the weeks before the first uprising, he had raged and wheedled at Sophie to leave, but she had refused. After the evacuation, rumors had been wild, the truth impossible to ascertain from the distance the President put behind them. If Jared was honest, he hadn't wanted to think about any of it. He had thrown himself into his studies, and played a pointless power game with his father. "I don't know. No," he answered honestly, because Jensen deserved that at least.

"Seriously?" His slave looked horrified.

Shame crawled under Jared’s skin. He looked away, unable to bear the way Jensen looked at him.

There was a shift in the sofa as Jensen sat next to him, lifted his feet and rested them on his thighs, to massage Jared's toes. "We sign a contract," Jensen explained, "It gives away our rights to freedom, our body, our thoughts and our control. For that, convicted criminals get a _consideration_ , that is, they are considered for slavery, if anybody will purchase them and take the responsibility of keeping them in captivity until their sentence is complete. Their purchase price is standardized and taken by the government. It cannot benefit them or their family."

"It still doesn't explain why you would stay."

Jensen shushed him with a finger on his lips, "The President does not allow convicts in his entourage. When a free person sells themselves, they can screen their bidders and set a minimum asking price. It is a simple case of supply and demand, and the money is paid to debtors or family. If a trader considers a slave to be sufficiently honest, with references, then another negotiation may take place. If your father likes what he sees, he pays a further half of the asking price on top of the original, for slaves who sign their life and lifetime loyalty to his family and his government. I needed that money, and I will take the consequences. I swore to protect you, and I keep my word, Jared. If I don't, then my default will fall to Mackenzie"

“You were married?” Jared hadn't considered the possibility, yet Jensen was certainly at an age where most would be.

“No. I never did find the right person. Mackenzie, my sister, did. She fell in love - stars in her eyes, head over heels, all that clichéd nonsense.”

“How does an accountant get into the sort of debt that merits selling himself into slavery? I mean, you earned a lot, you said you had a car.”

“Mac wanted a baby. She tried, time and time again. Their marriage got strained. It took over their lives. When they were offered IVF she took the chance. It cost thousands, and when it didn't work, they sold nearly everything they had. Then, one day she came to me with a little blue mark on the stick, and she was so fucking excited. That kid was everything to them, and she grew round with a healthy kid and I was thrilled. I'm an Uncle. Why wouldn't I be happy? Just before the birth, I found her at home, beaten to hell. Her husband was gone, He'd high-tailed it out of there. The baby hung on to be born, but she told me what she'd done to conceive, and made me promise to look after the child when she was gone.”

“She got in over her head with debt?” Jared supplied the theory. He gulped a mouthful of his coffee.

“She owed it to one of the many crime-lords, in this screwed up country. The interest was stacked high enough to challenge the Eiffel Tower. I sold my car, my house, and all my investments to pay it, and it still wasn't enough; the interest was still ticking. I didn't know what to do. Then, Mac went into labor, and I was her birthing partner. When Milly was born, I was the first to hold her. She was tiny, and blue-eyed, and perfect.” Jared could see tears glistening in Jensen's eyes, “I knew what I had to do, and now Milly has her mother, a home, and food, and they have no debts. I don't regret it. I'd do it again if I had to.”

Jared picked at the threads on the wool throw, and drained the rest of his drink. “I don't know what to say.”

“You don't have to say anything, just understand that I won't break my contract.”

“Oh,” Jared was dismayed. “I thought maybe you liked me.”

“I like you too much. I'm almost old enough to be your father, and you are confused and lost right now. I'm not going to take advantage.”

Jared perked up, “Not even if I ask you? You did before.”

Jensen patted his knee. “That was different. You were completely in control of yourself.”

Jared was feeling light-headed and giggly. It made no sense. “You're nice. Wish you were my Pa. Sexy daddy.” The bunker was spinning around him, and a hand reached to take his mug. “I feel odd.” He squinted at Jensen.

“Okay, Romeo. I found the meds supply. I added a sedative to take the edge off your panic. Not a lot to do 'cept sleep anyway.”

“I think I love you, sexy daddy.” Jared closed his eyes and grinned.

Jensen's palm cupped Jared’s cheek and fingers carded through his hair. “I think I misjudged the dose, you lightweight.”

Jared liked it here with Jensen.


	6. Big Bang 2013: Have Hatred and Gravity Won - 5/19

  
Jensen shuffled as far as he dared on elbows and knees. The sounds and smells of battle drifted to him on a smoky and cordite-tinged breeze, and the debris of the gunship breached the outer enclosure. It smoldered in scattered pieces at the edge of the ranch. The security detail had fallen back to the ranch itself and was defending the building with vigor.

It was an enthusiastic, but disorganized force that overran the area between the gate and the ranch. Civilians grew bold and joined the attack with makeshift weapons and hunting rifles. It was close to being a mob, and that was never going to be pretty. Jensen touched his collar self-consciously. He had no way to quickly remove the visible symbol of allegiance to the President. He didn't anticipate the rag-tag revolutionaries getting through the President's defenses, but it certainly made him cautious, and put a new spin on his mission. When the riot was through, there would be temporary weaknesses and heightened awareness.

Once, the President would have come to the people himself, addressed the crowd and soothed them. Once, Jensen, _no, Ross,_ had been proud to serve him.

Padalecki had been a man of the unions, and the figurehead for the ordinary citizens. He had risen to power rapidly, in a void created by scandals in the ruling classes and banking sectors. When established politicians fled the country, from charges of conspiracy and fraud, the people elected his grassroots party to govern them. It hadn't taken long for Padalecki's popularity to fade. It became apparent that the task of rebuilding the country was too complex for a simple man. The stifling tendrils of organized crime poisoned all sectors of society, and Padalecki’s aides were leeches, who circled him for opportunities of power and wealth. Paranoia, and his fear that the country would go to the polls, only to return to weighted feudalism, fueled a downward spiral in the man, and elections were canceled. Jensen saw a sad and dangerous dictator, who trusted nobody, and wallowed in the very traits he abhorred when he started his political quest.

He wondered when it had all changed for Jared, or if he even acknowledged his father's demise. He thought the boy didn't see it because he didn't want to. Jared flip-flopped between disgust with his father, and memories of a better time. He was a seriously messed-up kid, the perfect poster-child for his Pa's nation.

Jensen watched intently, like a big-cat waiting for a straggler to become detached from the herd. With a crowd like this, curiosity for what lay through the trees was inevitable. There would be aspiring looters, unwilling to share their booty. It made them easy to pick off. In the end, it was a middle-aged man, who smelled of cigarettes and alcohol and _greed_. Jensen ended him with one hand, before he could even beg for his pathetic life. He picked through the man's belongings, looking for his prize, and when his fingers clutched a cell phone, he grinned. Local reception was good, and it had a full battery.

Danni screeched unprofessionally when he gave his password. “What the fuck, Ross? You were supposed to find me a door into their IT from the main network, not some mouse hole to one side. Lucky for you, I'm a genius. Now, you're starting the party without us? Misha wants to smack you upside your head, and I'm not repeating the names JD has been using."

“Danni. I'm improvising the best I can. Let me speak to the boss.”

JD seemed unruffled, “What the hell sort of unsecure cell is this?”

“The only one I could get my hands on.”

“Where have you been? Not seen you with the target.”

Jensen winced. He knew he'd screwed up that part of his job, “What can I say? I'm not his favorite.”

“Not even going to ask you the obvious. You're alive. Tell me if it's on.”

“Give it a twenty four hour window after everything settles. I'm in place. The signal stands.”

“If you're sure?”

“I am.” Jensen’s finger hovered over the power button.

“Misha says to take care,” JD spoke gruffly.

Jensen smiled. He knew it was JD's way of showing concern, “Later.”

When Jensen returned, Jared was still sleeping. There was a slight flush on his cheeks, his feet poked out from the throw, and his hair trailed soft and shiny over the cushioned roll of the end of the sofa. ' _Sexy daddy'._ Jensen's skin crawled with the uncomfortable memory of Jared's giggly use of the affectation. He closed his eyes, but past voices and faces wouldn't be shaken off so easily. He breathed deep, and pushed the memories back into the black corners of his mind. This was a different situation. _He was different_ _from them._ If there was a fleeting moment in which Jensen thought his intentions were worse, then he didn't acknowledge it.

He took some time to investigate the bunker. It was the size of a large apartment. The guard room, by the door held the defunct comms, desk space, and two bunks. Jared slept on the sofa in a large, central, rest area, with armchairs, full bookshelves and small tables. From that, the kitchenette, two bathrooms and three bedrooms could be accessed. Two large and basic bunk-filled rooms were presumably meant to house government officials and family. The third room was smaller, but lavishly furnished, with a huge comfortable bed, a leather topped desk and a tiny cupboard-like space, housing a toilet and basin.

He noted that even in the reduced circumstances, there were steel rings for slaves to be leashed. What there wasn't – was an alternative exit. The walls and ceiling were solid steel, probably lead lined, and the bunker was almost certainly under the lake. When it came time to leave, there was only one way out. He hoped he hadn't misjudged the strength of the President's defenses.

  
Jared's mouth was dry and woolly, and his head ached. He opened stinging eyes to the interior of the bunker and groaned. He was hoping it was all a bad dream.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty. Take it easy. Here.” Jensen passed him a glass of water. “Boiled it earlier,” he explained.

Jared flexed and stretched. Jensen sat on the sofa with him, and his feet still rested on the slave's firm thighs. It was as if Jensen hadn't moved while Jared was asleep, but the water he offered proved otherwise. He yawned, “How long was I out?”

“About four hours. Sorry, you were freaking out. I thought it was for the best but it wasn't supposed to knock you out entirely.”

Jared sipped the water and sat up cautiously, “What now?”

“We appear to be all out of instructions on what to do when the compound is under attack and we're alone in a bunker. There _is_ a very nice recipe booklet for chocolate cake, and a fishing almanac.” Jensen's snide comment was both funny and frightening, “Tell me you had drills for this kind of thing, Jared? Or, that your father at least talked to you about it?”

Jared massaged a crick from his neck, “He didn't talk to me about anything, but you seemed to know what to do.” He realized that Jensen still hadn't told him why that was.

Jensen's reply was laced with sadness and frustration, “What do you think happens to the good folk every time there is a spat between the warlords and criminals, the government and the revolutionaries? Do you think that they are safe from the madness while it rages around them? The only thing ordinary people can do is hide until it is over, and hope that nobody makes them a witness or scapegoat. If their home, business and family remain when they emerge, then they count it as a victory. The ordinary folk are good at running and hiding. I was good at it.”

“I never got to see much, since I came back.”

“I guessed,” Jensen's hand was on his knee again. It was solid and warm and comforting. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Do you think he has even missed me? Nobody has come for me. I thought he would send somebody.” Jared let his doubts tumble out. He longed for his mother to hold him tight and reassure him. Sometimes, he didn't feel very grown up. Jensen seemed to understand him. He didn't tell him to grow up, or get a pair. Jensen listened, and he explained things without derision. Jared wanted to fall into his safety.

“I think this was all very sudden. Maybe they can't get to you, or maybe it is safer not to draw attention to your presence. I think that Corporal Hodge would come, if he could. He seems fond of you.”

“You mean Pa doesn't seem fond of me?”

Jensen grimaced, “I didn't say that.”

“You're not _allowed_ to say that.” Jared pulled the throw over himself like a shield, “But I wish you would be honest. The first time we met, you said what you thought.” Even Jared could tell he sounded like a spoiled kid.

“And look where that got me! Besides, I don't think it's me who needs to be honest. I think you're sick of lying to yourself.”

Jared opened and closed his mouth in shock. Jensen's shot had been straight and true. Jared knew he'd made bad choices, and his regrets festered like an open wound.

“I'm sorry.” It came out as a broken whisper.

Jensen leaned over him with a bright eyed and curious gaze. “What for?”

He traced the letters on Jensen's cheek, “What I did to you. It was childish. I wanted Pa to notice me, and acknowledge that I would stand up for him. I wanted him to see that I wasn't a child any more, and all I proved was the opposite. I took the anger that I had with Pa, out on you.” Jared curled himself small, “When I came here, I thought it would be fun having money, hot girls and boys who wanted to date the President's son, slaves to pick up after me, an assured college place. _I'm a teenager_. Who doesn't want all that?” Jared couldn't help the self pitying whine that came with his speech, “I didn't think about why Ma left Pa and this whole country behind. I didn't think the awful things the news shows said about Pa could be true.”

“And now?” Jensen encouraged him gently.

“I don't want to die. I don't want Pa to die, and I don't want you to die. Pa's not the bad person everyone thinks he is, even if he isn't like you.” Jared tried to hold back the tears that filled his eyes, but a single one rolled down his cheek. “But, you're better than him, and I shouldn't think that way, and I don't know what to do.”

“Slaves are people. You do know that, right?” Jensen didn't sound pissed, but there was no sympathy in his reaction.

“I do know. I used to be angry about it. When I was young, Pa ranted about slavery, how he was going to end it. It made me mad when he didn't. Then I grew up and hit reality. Reality is about economics and choice. This country is struggling to feed itself, and the rare legal exports are from factories and businesses which compete in the world market by using slaves. At least slaves have food and shelter. Slavery is a choice in this country. You _chose_ it, and if you hadn't, then the outcome could have been worse. A baby could have lost her mother, because the alternative would have been to let the loan sharks and crime-lords collect in their own way. Without the option for a legal, fair system to sell yourself into slavery then there is only the illegal slide into pseudo-slavery, working as a mule or whore for the likes of Quintas and ending up dead in the gutter.”

“Wow. But you and your father, and his friends never went short. You ate nine courses and drank the wine without a thought of sharing it. You do know how many of your father's slaves and soldiers end up dead in the gutter, don't you? How about Fin, Jared? How much choice did he get? What choices did you give him?”

Jared swallowed hard and he ground his teeth, his first reaction was anger, but he was no longer sure who he was angry with.

Jensen stood up, “I shouldn't get into this with you. I'm going for a walk.”

Jared tilted his head in confusion.

“To the kitchen,” clarified Jensen, “If you value your pretty face, don't follow me.”

Jared reached into his pocket and then recalled that the shock controller wasn't there.

Jensen nodded knowingly. “You said you wanted the truth, you got it. The shock control is in the guard room. I was hoping you would demonstrate some common decency.”

_I'm a dick._ Jared decided. He watched Jensen disappear around the corner and fell back into the firm leather of the couch. His head was aching with a pounding rhythm that matched his heart. It took a moment to remember why he felt like he did. _Jensen drugged him._ He thought that maybe Jensen was kind of a dick too. It was disturbing that his mind supplied the idea that it made Jensen just a little more perfect for him.

 


	7. Big Bang 2013: Have Hatred and Gravity Won - 6/19

  
Jensen clapped between each push up, worked through multiple ab crunches and then grabbed some heavy cans for arm curls. He needed to keep sharp. Sometime between arm curls and leg stretches, he heard Jared get up and move around, and a little after that he sensed his presence, watching him exercise. He pulled his tee shirt off over his head with teasing slowness and continued to work his muscles. He didn't acknowledge Jared. Instead, he bent to touch his toes, flexed his ass perfectly and licked his lips as he bounced in the position.

“Christ!” Jared gave his presence away. He leaned on the wall and didn't try to pretend he wasn't staring. “You should work out with me.”

Jensen's face looked upside down, through his legs at Jared. He gave a dirty grin, “Are you propositioning me, Jared?”

“Um, yeah, totally, but really, if we get out of here, you should come with me to the gym.”

Jensen snapped upright and flexed to each side with a hand on his waist, “You wanna learn some new moves, baby boy?”

Jared blushed wine-red and shifted uncomfortably. He let his sleep-mussed hair tumble over his eyes to hide his embarrassment. Jensen thought he looked innocent and gorgeous, but he would look better debauched and covered in come.

“I, uh, didn't get the collar controller.” Jared's tip-tilted eyes peered through strands of hair at Jensen as he spoke, “You're not going to hit me are you?”

Jensen slowed and set about his cooling-down exercises, “No. I'm not going to hit you, Jared. Not that you don't deserve a smacked ass, but that should have been done years ago.”

“How long do you think we'll be here?” Jared chewed at a fingernail and Jensen couldn't help being drawn to the movement of his lips and mouth.

“I don't know. We should stay here for at least a day.”

“I had a look around.”

“Uh-huh?”

“There's bunks, and there's a small room with a big-ass comfortable bed.” Jared fluttered his eyelashes while he arched his back against the wall, accentuating the tilt of his hips.

“Yeah?” Jensen said, noncommittally. He circled his neck and breathed out slow.

"Other than that we have puzzle books, Monopoly, chess, Scrabble, cards and two Pokemon decks.”

“Pokemon? How do you even do that?”

Jared shook his head and his laugh was bittersweet, “I don't remember. It was a phase when I was young. I can't believe Pa thought of us when he stocked this place. Megan and I fought cat and dog over Charmander one Christmas.”

Jensen filled a mug with water from a pan and sipped at it. “People remember the weirdest things.”

“I remember you called me pretty,” Jared bit his lip and lowered his gaze, “Nobody has ever said that to me before.” 

“I can't believe that.” Jensen dropped his voice low.

“It's true, and it's also true that I'm no longer drugged, so if we decided to do _something else_ , to pass the time, it wouldn't be you taking advantage.”

Jensen stretched his back before straightening in front of Jared. His sweaty palm reached to stroke Jared's hair from his face and loop it over his ear. There was no point in delaying the seduction any longer. He knew how to charm, and it was easy to be sincere about Jared's beauty, no, _his appearance_.

His long fingers just barely touched Jared's forehead. “Here, your skin is smooth, and when you think, it furrows and you can see the intelligence in there,” He traced his fingertips down to lightly touch at his eyes, “Your eyes have the most exotic shape I have ever seen, and your lashes would make any girl jealous. When you look at me I'm never sure what color your eyes are. I just know that they are green and gold and blue and they shine with mystery and youth.”

He let both hands cup Jared's chin, and his thumbs met on the bridge of his nose. “Your nose is perfect and it turns up just a little, like it was made for the fae.” His thumbs smoothed Jared's cheeks and over the roughness at his jaw.” You have defined cheekbones, and symmetry a model would be proud of. Your jaw is the square of the proud man you'll be one day. Your moles are strangely attractive. They give you character.”

His flat palm stroked back over Jared's neck, and over one ear, “You have the cutest small ears and the softest hair.” He trailed his hand back to lick at his index finger and place it on Jared's mouth, where he circled it on the slick of his saliva, around Jared's lips, slowly, _oh so slowly_ _and deliberately_. “You have dimples when you smile, your lips are perfectly red and shine when you lick them.” He pushed a thumb inside and Jared sucked on it with a moan. Jensen crowded him against the wall, the bare skin of his chest feeling the scrape of Jared's shirt and the heat of his reaction. He snapped his hips to grind against the obvious erection in Jared's pants as he leaned in to within a whisper of his face, “You have white teeth and your tongue sticks out, pink and teasing, when you're concentrating.” Jensen stuck his own tongue out to lick a stripe up Jared's neck, over his chin and around his lips, “And your mouth fits perfectly around my cock.”

Jensen felt Jared's whole body shiver, heard the hitch in his breath and sensed the increased beat of his heart. The kid's dick tented his pants admirably. The perspiration from his chest soaked into Jared's shirt. His words were quiet, deliberate and sultry. “I bet no-one's ever said 'no' to you, baby boy. I'm certain nobody has ever made you beg like I can. Do you want to me to make you beg, Jared?”

Jared's mouth dropped open and his hand reached to touch himself. Jensen's reflexes were lightning fast and Jared's wrists were in his grip and pinned to Jared's sides before Jared could register what was happening.

“No, baby. Not yet.”

Jared's eyes widened and he struggled ineffectually in Jensen's hold. “You can't …”

“I think I just did, Jared. You can have me. I'm right here, but if I do this, I drive.” He looked directly into Jared's eyes, “You can tell me to stop and I will, but I don't think you will. I'm going to let you go now. Touch or don't touch, you know the consequence, it's your choice” His muscles relaxed and he dropped his grip on Jared's wrists to start unbuttoning Jared's shirt. He took each button slow and deliberate, and dipped in for the barest kiss to a different piece of Jared's exposed skin after each one. Jared whined and squirmed against him. Jensen's cock twitched and started to take notice of the youth and vitality that pressed close to him, panting and eager, and _oh so needy,_ for him to take care of, control and _protect_. He slid the shirt from Jared's shoulder and pulled his tee shirt off over his head, so they were flesh to flesh. Jared's nipples were erect, and Jensen could see the tiny tremor that coursed through him.

“Please, please, touch me.” Jared whined.

Jensen placed his lips around one of the pleasing pink nubs and licked a circle before clamping down and suckling on it. He squeezed the other and rolled it between thumb and forefinger. Jared gasped and arched his back, Jensen could feel the moment he reached to touch himself again. He laughed around Jared's nipple, blowing cold air on it. “If you have to touch something, then touch me. Did nobody teach you to share? Put those hands on me.” 

“Oh, god!” Jared put his hands tentatively at the base of Jensen's spine and smoothed his hands under the waistband of his pants to stroke the firm flesh of his buttocks.

“Good boy, that's nice, a little slower, more relaxed. That's it. We've got time. Gonna take it easy.” Jensen nipped sharp teeth into the very tip of Jared's nipple, felt the suck of his breath and twitch of his cock. “Hnng. You like a little pain with your pleasure. Did you know that already?”

Jared shook his head, unable to voice his negative reply, visibly shocked at his own reaction. He didn't get the chance, Jensen licked his way up to his mouth, covered it forcefully with his own, probed entrance with his tongue and kissed the very breath from him. One hand roamed over his skin, lighting delicious sensation with every touch, Jensen's other hand pressed firmly against his hip, preventing the roll and grind that Jared found so hard to resist. Jared's cock was rigid with lust and he could feel spot of damp as a pearl of pre come met the fabric of his boxers.

  
This was nothing he'd had before. There was the hint, days earlier, when Jensen had kissed him, used his mouth and got him off. Jared hadn't known what to think of the emotions it stirred, but then Jensen had backed off. He had been the perfect, impersonal slave, as if he sensed conflict in Jared. _As if he cared enough to wait._ Now, Jared asked for it, and every movement confirmed how much he wanted it this way. The kiss ended and he panted for breath even as Jensen's hands tangled in his hair, gripped his scalp and pushed him down to his knees in front of his own collared slave. The ache of hair being tugged had his nose buried in the fabric of Jensen's soft pants, against the bulge of his obvious erection. He used his hands to steady himself, remembered not to let them stray to his own pleasure, and reached to tug at the pull cord of Jensen's pants. Jensen grabbed at his fingers once more.

“No. Use your mouth. Put your hands on my hips.”

He nuzzled into the sweat-musky area, gripped carefully at fabric, with just his teeth and shook and pulled at it, like a pup with a toy, but he couldn't make the pants budge.

There was a breathy laugh above him, and blunt nails scraped through his hair, “Okay, okay, you can use your hands. I don't need anything precious bitten off.”

Jared scrabbled to pull at the jogging bottoms and was rewarded with the sight of Jensen's cock, thick long and hard as nails, with a hint of fluid at the tip. It hadn't occurred to him, as he inexpertly chased his own orgasm in some eager twink's mouth, just how hot the smell, the sight, the approval and the anticipation of it would be. He wanted to taste it again, but he could learn, and Jensen hadn't told him to. His fingers brushed over the dent of Jensen's hips, as he held on for the ride.

“Nobody else knows what a good boy you are, do they? They don't appreciate you. Such a good boy for me, Jared. You can taste me again, I want you to. I'm going to fuck that sweet mouth of yours, and you are going to make me wet and sloppy, and ready to take your virgin ass.” Jared tipped his eyes up and up to meet Jensen's gaze. Jensen laughed again, “You are so young, and so, so eager, baby boy.”

Jared reached out his tongue to lick around the base of Jensen's glans. The sweat from Jensen's work out combined with Jensen's arousal to make the taste strong and slightly salty. Jensen smoothed his hair and he found more courage, he licked across the head, over the damp slit.

“Mm, feels good. Bet you love it, Get it wet, suck it in.” Jensen's thumb pressed into the side of his mouth, to open it a fraction, and a sudden tug on his hair had the purpling head of his dick touched to his lips, “Go on then!”

There was a sudden flare of rebellion at his slave issuing commands, Jared paused, about to object, but Jensen spoke first, “I'm gonna give you what you want.  You will come on my cock, but you've suckled my thumb every time it goes near your mouth, you suck your pen, chew your nails. You like to suckle, Jared, and it's not a bad thing. It can be sexy or comforting.” Jensen stroked his face and growled the rest the next sentence, “You want to be sexy for me, don't you?”

Christ! Jared almost came in his pants. He whined his discomfort but his mouth opened, he covered his teeth and he took the tip of Jensen's cock into the heat of his mouth. Jensen was right, he liked it. His mouth watered for it. He altered his pose, knelt a little more upright and adjusted his grip on Jensen, remembering not to bruise with his hold. He sucked his cheeks in, hummed, and used his tongue to wet every part of the cock in his mouth. He relaxed and let Jensen take his face in his hands and tilt it up as he started to push in, over the slick of his tongue. The slide was slow and shallow and it allowed him to appreciate the thrill of the action, with his nose buried into coarse hair, and his head pulled into the firm, sweat-shiny skin of Jensen's navel. His knees protested the hard floor under him, but his mind found a thrill with the illicit nature of his submission. He didn't think he could hold out much longer and he wanted more, far more. His lust for it made him shudder. He was wrong to pursue this but somehow he couldn't stop the broken cries that dropped from his mouth, muffled around the focus of his desire. He couldn't bear for Jensen to come like this and stop. He wanted to know how it felt to have his ass filled and fucked. “Please, fuck me, please, don't want to come like this. Jen -se… please, please, need it.”

Jensen withdrew then pushed in again, suddenly deep, into his throat. It burned and scraped and made him gag. He couldn't breathe and his throat muscles fluttered around the intrusion. He felt giddy and yet the force of it triggered a gut-deep and blinding excitement that had his balls heavy, his cock throbbing with readiness. Jensen withdrew as suddenly as he had deep-throated him, and it unbalanced Jared. His eyes watered as he coughed, and he would have fallen, without Jensen's quick catch, under his armpits. He was hauled up by his slave, to stand, as easily a father lifts his toddler. Jensen hugged him close, arms circling him, hands rubbing his back, as he kissed the tears from his eyes. “Such a good boy.”

Jared's cock ached, he could feel every beat of his heart throb to the very tip of it. He moaned once more, with a needy, “Please, Jensen.”

“Are you begging me, Jared?”

“Yes, yes, god, please.”

“Give me something, some reason for me to know that you trust me enough for this. Tell me what you'll do for me.”

“Anything, I'll kneel, you can deep throat me again,”

“I know you'll give me all that, you already did.” Jensen's hands released the zipper of Jared's pants, dipped in to smooth over his ass and squeeze his round cheeks. He pushed the pants to his knees in one rough movement. _Fuck!_ Jared needed Jensen's hands or mouth on him _right now_. He circled his hips up so his dick rubbed against Jensen's and the sparks skittered through to his every nerve ending.

“No!” Jensen growled at him.

Jared couldn't comprehend the speed and ease with which Jensen manhandled him. He was spun around and bent face-forward over the small breakfast bar, with the heavy weight of Jensen's arm over his lower back, locking him in place. His hands and head dangled helplessly over the other side of the slim serving surface and his chest was flattened to it. Jared thought his heart may jack-rabbit through his ribs and the blood that ran through his veins was molten lava.

“Please,” he begged as he humped at the edge of the surface.

“How do I know I'm not just your latest toy, Jared? I want to be your lover. I need you to trust me. Give me something to work with, and I'll prove myself. I'll let you come and it will be the best you've ever had, boy.” There was only a slight pant and tremor in Jensen's demand.

_Fuck_ . Jared was all over the place, his emotions in shattered pieces. _How the hell could Jensen keep so calm. “_ Gonna disable your shock control,” he suggested desperately.

The comforting weight of Jensen's body draped over his back, “I can't hold off much longer, and you're young. You must be aching for it. Spread your legs Jared.” There was the noise of a packet tearing and Jensen reached his hand in front of his face to show him the lube. “Not going to damage you.”

“Oh,” Jared couldn't form words. He widened his stance and bent his forehead to lean against the smooth surface. He was going to get his ass reamed, and he thought it was the hottest thing that had ever happened to him. Fingers parted his ass cheeks and circled his puckered hole on a smudge of cool, slippery lube.

“Beautiful. So tight. You really are a virgin here, Jared.”

“Uh-huh,” Jared confirmed with a nod. “Oh, ah,” Jared tensed as a finger pressed in past both sets of muscle and stroked at the wall of his most private channel. It was an odd feeling, not quite pleasure or pain, but a promise of both. _Hell! He needed some relief soon._

“You okay? You sure?” asked Jensen between heavy breaths, even as he humped his dick over the curve of Jared's globes.

“Hurry up.” Jared's frustrated tears were real, “Or I will finish it myself.”

There was the sound of a packet tearing, and the snap of condom. “Gotta take it easy. I'm almost old enough to be your daddy, remember? Gonna make you safe, show you how to take control, look after you, like a real daddy would.”

Okay, so that _should_ sound _all kinds of wrong_ to Jared, but it didn't. He wanted Jensen all around him, in him and over him, taking care of him in all the right ways. He whimpered and then pushed back to impale himself on the second finger that Jensen offered. He felt the squelch of lube and chased the sensation of the digits that scissored him, it gave him a physical connection to Jensen that he wanted to keep hold of. When a third finger was deep, it flicked over the nub of his prostate and Jared almost leaped out of his skin with the intensity of _incredible_ that coursed through him. A drip of pre come dotted the surface below him and he snapped his hips back, but the fingers were gone, removed too fast. He moaned at the loss, pleading deliriously.

“You want me to do this, yet you have so little trust, you will continue to chain me like a dog every night,” Jensen ground the words out.

Jared couldn't stop, but he felt a pang of guilt at the truth of it. He was too far lost in his sex-haze to answer but he knew what he should do when they were sated.

There was the nudge of firm flesh at his hole and Jared drew breath. Jensen took a single stroke to impale him on his cock and it stretched and burned and filled him perfectly. “Oh, god yes!” Jared was on his tiptoes, flexing his leg muscles, pushing to meet him.

Jensen leaned over and nipped a purple bruise into his shoulder as he deepened and bottomed out, so his balls slapped against Jared's flesh. He stayed intimate and deep, making him uncomfortably but wonderfully full. Jared wondered why he had never thought to bottom before. He had seen his lovers lose their minds with the pleasure, but he had believed it was an inferior way to be. With Jensen it wasn't like that at all. He felt treasured, like it was all for him. He smiled and moaned his pleasure.

  
Jensen sucked and lapped at Jared's skin in an erotic claim. When Jared gave a dreamy smile it flooded him with unexpected warmth. He didn't think either of them would hold out for much longer, yet it felt timeless and unhurried. He pushed down the unexpected thought that it could be _making love._ He gave up the idea of that long ago; it was a concept that generally made him want to puke. He reminded himself it was simple biology, the kid was good looking, and anyone Jensen’s age would lust after what he was getting from Jared. He tensed his legs and started to thrust, banging Jared into the unforgiving surface below him. It was bound to bruise, but Jared met each stroke with enthusiasm and their pace quickened.  Jensen finally let his control go, he pumped in, breathing raggedly, kissing at the back of Jared's neck, tugging harshly at his hair. He knew the moment he hit Jared's sweet spot from the delirious obscenities that were uttered. With two more drags over the same place he reached his hand around to stroke and squeeze Jared's substantial dick. Jared's come spilled over his hand and Jared's muscles clamped down on Jensen's cock, buried deep in his ass. Jensen thought he heard them both scream and curse but his attention was on his own come filling the condom in Jared's channel, and the screeching, blinding white orgasm that made him shake and laugh. _It felt so fucking good._ He collapsed over Jared's similarly exhausted form.

_“_ _I think I love you.”_ Jensen's haze cleared as Jared's wheezing, broken words reached him.

It should have sounded like victory, but the words horrified Jensen, they cut into him like cold steel. “Oh baby boy. You're too young to know what love is.”

There was a gulp that sounded suspiciously like disappointment. Jensen let his softened cock slide from Jared and he grabbed tissues to wipe them both. He smoothed his hand over Jared's shoulder. “Hey,” he said softly, “C'mere and kiss me. I care a lot about you. I want it to be more. I just don't want you getting in too deep and being disappointed with me. You have to remember I am only your property.” He helped Jared up, let him lean into him on weary legs. Jensen caressed Jared’s arms, his face, and all down his spine. Jared's head tucked into his shoulder like it was made to fit.  “It's not a crush,” protested Jared quietly, then yawned and staggered. Jensen caught him and steadied him.

“I think you should make use of that enormous bed.”

“Mm, we should.” agreed Jared. He let Jensen lead him to the small presidential bedroom and lay him naked on the sheets. Jensen tucked the covers over him and Jared's hand snaked out to grab him. “No, together,” Jared insisted, “You're beat too.” Jared's eyelashes fluttered as he struggled to stay awake.

“I shouldn't,” Jensen shook free and crossed the room. He dipped a hand into the pocket off his abandoned jacket, to retrieve something. Jared squinted sleepily at the leash Jensen brought back to him. His eyes flew open and he sat up straight.

“No! Why do you think I'd do that right now? Did you think I was only using you, Jensen?” The hurt showed in Jared’s expression and his tone.

“Of course not, but there is a protocol,” Jensen soothed. 

“In that case, it is an order. I want you by my side, to keep me warm.” Jared's words spoke of ownership but his hand extended in a plea, and his eyes begged.

“You'd be asleep and I would be untied.”

“That's the point, Jensen. I want to sleep in your arms because you make me feel secure. You asked me to show trust. This is it. No more chaining you up. You can sleep in my bed, and I will make sure that everyone knows it is my will, because you saved my life. Even Pa cannot argue with that. Please come to bed. Jensen.”

_It was too easy, like taking candy from a baby._ Jensen slid under the sheets to be with him. Jared's skin was hot like a furnace on his skin and it felt right. Jensen lay on his back and extended his arm out to scoop Jared into him, so his face tucked into his chest and his hair trailed over his shoulder. He placed a delicate kiss to the top of his head and Jared reciprocated with soft lips on his breast. Jensen relaxed. It was only minutes before they were slept, tangled up in each other, like established lovers.

Jared was still asleep when Jensen woke. He wondered how the kid managed it after his long drugged doze the evening before, but hey, _teenager_. He looked again at the coltish body tangled in the sheets and draped over him. He was young, vibrant and pretty, and Jensen would take every piece of his remaining innocence without him suspecting a thing. There was a dark thrill to the thought. He lifted the covers without disturbing him, stretched and yawned, padded out of the room to exercise, and then warmed some water to wash with.

 


	8. Big Bang 2013: Have Hatred and Gravity Won - 7/19

  
Jared awoke to the aroma of coffee and the familiar comfort of a green eyed slave. “You didn't leave me.” He remembered having Jensen unchained in his bed, and there was a measure of relief in the realization.

“There was breakfast to make. You can't get rid of me that easily, Master,” his slave answered softly.

He reached a hand out to touch Jensen's arm. “Don't. Don't call me that any more. I don't want to be that any more. Not when we're alone.”

“Can't change history, Jared.” Jensen looked sad. “It won't change what I am, but I will try to remember to only use _Master_ in the company of others.”

“Good.” Jared glanced at his watch and his gut twisted with anxiety, “Has nobody come to get us?”

Jensen sat down on the edge of the bed and pushed a tray to him. “No,” he replied simply. He stirred a bowl of thick cereal, and opened a jar of maple syrup. “Obviously there isn't anything fresh, but the oatmeal seems good, and there's orange juice.”

Jared wrapped his fingers around the individual carton and sipped at his juice. It was cold and refreshing but it felt like acid in his stomach. He couldn't understand how Jensen remained so calm. He dabbed the spoon at the oatmeal without eating it. “Where's yours?” he asked.

“I had army rations earlier.”

Jared sat up. Jensen placed pillows to aid him. "What were they like?” He'd seen them in the stores but never tried them.

His slave laughed, “Nutritious but not delicious. It's all good, we'll manage.”

He drizzled maple syrup on the top of his oatmeal, and then stabbed it with his spoon once more. He took two mouthfuls, stirred the rest and pushed the dish aside. He wasn't hungry and his stomach rebelled against every portion. Jensen looked disappointed, so he reassured him, “It's not your cooking. I just can't eat,” explained Jared.

“It was a long day and energetic evening. You have to be hungry, Jared.”

Jared bit his lip. He couldn't help the guilt. He had been fucking while others suffered. Awful images and thoughts raced through his head. “Do you think they're all dead?”

“No, I think they're hiding, like us.”

“But, it's only a matter of time, isn't it? We'll run out of food and water, or they'll come in and get us. Do you think it will be quick? I don't. They'll want it to be public. There were rumors about what they did at the official residence. It's gonna be worse for Pa and for me. I could ask them to go easy on you, but it might make it worse.” Jared’s breath was quickening and a sweat broke on his brow. He felt the dip of the bed, the tray was lifted away, and the warm bulk of Jensen was by his side, arms around his waist, pulling him into a solid embrace.

“Stop! We talked about this. They aren't going to know we're here. If it takes too long we will get out of here and make a run for it together. Now, breathe in.” It was a command.

Jared breathed in.

“Hold it. Now out, slowly, calmly. Repeat.” Jensen breathed with him. Jared's heart gradually steadied and he melted into the warmth and security of the older man. “That's it. Good boy.”

They stayed like that for a while, before Jensen reached to grab the tray again. “You have to stay strong.”  

Jared didn't have a moment before the spoon was nudging at his lips, “Open up baby boy, want to see you take all of this.” Jared's mouth opened obediently to take the offered food. For some reason it didn't feel humiliating. It was a token of care, and Jared let Jensen feed him like a baby, and wipe the traces from the side of his mouth with a tissue. “You need someone to look after you,” crooned Jensen.

Jared didn't object, he accepted his mug of coffee from him, warmed his hands around it, snuggled into Jensen's side and drank it slowly.   

Fingers carded through his hair. “I warmed some water for you to wash, but it's probably cold by now,” Jensen mentioned.

“I'm not fragile!” protested Jared.

“No, but you're still stressing,” his slave retorted.

“Can we just …maybe stay in bed for now. We could play cards, or there's a book of crosswords. You can find my iPod, it still has some charge, so we can have music. The silence is driving me insane. I can't believe there's no TV.”

Jensen hmphed, “Kids! There are batteries, and solar power is being generated somewhere but it's barely managing the lights. Luckily there are candles if it fails.”

“Oh, right.” It was humbling to have to think about every watt of power. There were towns and villages which regularly blacked out with terrorist action, or simple lack of facilities, and yet, with the exception of his camping trips, he had never been without TV and games. Even then he had music. “Hey!” he almost shouted, “There's a wind-up camping radio in my back pack. I thought we could use it when we were fishing, then I forgot about it. We can hook it into the aerial for the comms unit. We can find out the news.” Jared’s face fell, as he thought about it, “I'm not sure if I'm ready to know.”

Jensen was staring at him with something like open-mouthed amazement, “I didn't pack a radio.”

“No, I found it when I was poking around the lodge earlier. It's one of those gadgets that seemed like a great idea, but we never got around to using.”

Jensen placed a smacking kiss on his cheek. “You're brilliant,” he grinned.

It was a genuine compliment. For the first time that day, some of Jared's tension melted away.

Jensen caved in to his request to wait before using the radio. They curled close in the bed and shouted answers to a crossword puzzle Jared had chosen. Everything about being with Jensen felt right. It felt like love.

“Sexy star of Mr. and Mrs. Smith,” Jared chewed his pencil.

“Angelina Jolie,”  
“Brad Pitt!” they shouted together.

Jensen dissolved into laughter, “Angelina Jolie. Are you serious?”

“It's what they're looking for,” pouted Jared, showing him the blank spaces.

“Judging by the way you took my cock, she's not what _you're_ looking for eh, baby boy?”

Jared shrugged. Jensen propped himself up on one elbow, to look at him, “You're bi? Have you even been with a woman, Jared?”

“Yeah!” Jared defended himself, but he unconsciously tensed and his self-doubt swirled angrily in his mind. His shoulders dropped with the tone of his voice, “I don't know, I thought I was bi, or I wanted to be. It would be easier. I might be.”

“It's not unusual at your age. Lots of people spend their entire life, confused. It's nothing to be ashamed of.”

“When, I'm around you, I'm not confused.” It was the truth. Here and now, Jared understood he was gay, or maybe Jensen-sexual. He pressed close to Jensen's side.

Jensen looked thoughtful. “What was the girl like? Was she pretty? Did daddy take you to a brothel to lose your virginity? Was she a slave like me, or like Fin?”

Jared remembered every detail of her. His nails bit into his palms. “She was an employee, not a slave. She was beautiful. She was slim, but not thin, with dark hair, dark eyes, and an attitude.” Jared smiled fondly, “She could kick your ass.”

Jensen's eyes slammed shut and he let out a peculiar gasp. Jared was momentarily terrified that he had offended Jensen, but the older man opened his eyes and smiled at him, “What else? Was she as good at sex as me?”

Jared chuckled, “I was sixteen, she was nineteen. It wasn't Love Story _._ There is nothing to compare. She was like a sister.” His cheeks colored, “Well, a sister with benefits. It was fun for a while. I think mostly it was an experiment, or to prove that I wasn't gay. In the end I think it confirmed the opposite.”

Jensen's fingers curled into a fist. “What happened?”

“We broke up.” Jared couldn't help the abrupt answer. It hadn't been love, but the details opened a rancid, painful sore.

Jensen's eyebrows rose and his mouth twisted, “Broke-up isn't code for what happened to Fin is it?”

“No! Why would you even …?” Jared was defensive, even if the truth wasn't far from it.

“Sorry. How does the youth of today break up? Did you have an angst-filled heart to heart, or what?” There was something insistent about Jensen's questioning.

This time, Jared flamed with color. He couldn't meet Jensen's gaze. “Text, or lack of it” he murmured. Every word Sophie had typed was burned like a brand on his memory.

_J where r u?_

_Is this u dumping me?_

_J? pick up_

_J pls we need to talk_

_They're close – pls Jay – don't want to die angry with each other-talk 2 me_

_Pls – need a friendly voice_

_J? pls_

_Coward. Bastard. Grow some balls_

_DIE IN AGONY AND BURN IN HELL JARED PADALECKI_

Jared shook himself from the memory, blinked back a tear and put on his best _couldn't-give -a-shit_ face.

“Wow. Text. That's cold.” There was something unsettling in Jensen's reaction and Jared thought he had no right to judge him.

“Wasn't asking the opinion of a slave,” he sneered, before turning his back on him. He didn't know why he had to do that, and silently cursed his adolescent temper.

Jensen stood and Jared heard him walk away, then pause to say, “I guess your relationship skills haven't improved.”

“There's no relationship here Jensen, it's a fuck, not love; you said it yourself.” Jared's mouth was running away with itself and it wouldn't stop.

“Keep kidding yourself, Jared. I'm going to hook up the radio. If you know what's good for you, you'll stay away from me.” Jensen was cool and tightly controlled. It made Jared furious.

“How dare you tell me what to do! I'll flog you!” he yelled, without thought.

Jensen's reaction was unexpected, out of character for the man he'd got used to. He doubled back and had Jared in some sort of wrestling grip in the blink of an eye. Jared was thrown, terrified and naked, over the bed, with his arm bent painfully and a knee in the small of his back. His slave was remarkably strong and Jared knew he was in trouble. Every threat he could issue was redundant in the circumstances, and he didn't have the remote for Jensen's collar. “Please don't,” Jared begged, without knowing what he was begging for.

He could hear Jensen's teeth grinding and a low growl from his throat, “You're a spoiled brat. You have no idea how to act, no respect, and no control.”

Jared swallowed. He thought it was probably all true. It didn't make his fear and humiliation any less. He couldn't form an answer.

“Mommy treated you like a Prince but she wasn't there to guide you. Daddy likes the idea of an heir but can't be bothered with you. They never had time to praise your achievements, or discipline you, did they?” The pressure reduced on his arm, Jensen hissed his words in Jared's ear. “You wanted acknowledgment, respect and parental guidance so much that you came back to this dump of a country looking for it, and now you know your father isn't capable of any of it, I am the next best thing. It might not be love, but it sure as hell is _something._ You're not going to punish me, because I can give you what you need, Jared. When you can admit it, come and find me by the comms.”

The weight on his back disappeared and, as quickly as he had subdued Jared, Jensen was gone, leaving him cold, naked and ashamed on the bed. The air rushed from Jared's lungs, taking his fear with it, leaving him calmer and a little aroused. He replayed the scene, trying to understand how Jensen got into his head so easily. None of it made any sense, which was pretty much the story of his life.

  
The wiring was simple. Ross could fix the entire console if he was inclined, but Jensen wouldn't know where to start. Setting up the aerial for the radio was easy, even for an accountant, so he concentrated on that. His hands were steady, but his fury burned deep. It disturbed him that his focus had shifted. He wanted to hate Jared with the same venom that had fueled him for so long, but it was getting harder all the time. Jared was stupid, selfish and arrogant, yet there was a vulnerability to him, something that attracted Jensen to the boy. There was a sense that Jared was open to change, even waiting for it. Jensen snorted. It was nothing but his inner control freak getting off on a young body ripe for molding. If he even liked him. Which he _didn't_ , not at all. _Collateral Damage_ , he reminded himself. There was no way it ended well for Jared Padalecki, and it was fitting, after all Jared had taken his family from him 11 months, two days and…he checked the time, about 3 hours…earlier.

_“_ _Ross?”_

_“_ _Who is this?” he asked, but he already recognized the pitch and the accent. Christ, he'd missed her._

_“_ _Oh, thank goodness. I thought you might have ditched this number. Last time I used it was a year ago, at the zoo.”_

_She passed the 'not under duress test' with an old password. They'd never been to the zoo.“Soph?”_

_“_ _Yeah, surprise!” her voice was full of fake cheer and stress._

_“_ _You okay? You finally getting out?”_

_He could hear her choke up, “I guess, sort of. Just thought you'd want to hear my news.”_

_There was no way the call was a casual catch-up, he let her continue. He thought he could hear the sound of gunfire in the background._

_“_ _I got the posting I wanted. Passed the psych, the physical, the lot. Youngest on the President's own security team. You taught me to kick-ass with the best.” It was a proud statement, but there was a shake in her voice._

_He was confused, “According to CNN, the President is under attack. Where are you? When did you get out?”_

_Her reply was barely there, “The family and government needed a diversion. I said I was getting out, and I am.” there was a pause, “The hard way.”_

_Ross sat bolt upright, “Sophie, I'll come, hold on.”_

_There was the slightest laugh, “My hero,” she crooned, “There's a full-on battle and it's too late. It's my job, remember? I'm fine with it, really. I just needed to hear your voice.”_

_His heart splintered, Sophie wasn't the dramatic sort. She was the most capable soldier he knew, and if she said there was no way out, he believed her. He could do this for her. He had to._

_“_ _How's your mother?”_

_“_ _She eloped with a saleswoman, and I'm not even joking. They're very happy, living in a camper van and growing their own weed.”_

_Jensen's laugh was genuine, “Your mother was always the best. Baby sitting you was the wisest decision I ever made. I got a little sister and an awesome mother, all in one.”_

_“_ _Promise me you'll look out for her?”_

_“_ _Yeah, of course Sophie.”_

_There was rapid fire and a splintering sound. “Uh-oh, just gotta  - hey, don't ring off Jen – stay with me.” She left her cell on, and he heard it all as it happened. Familiar sounds of battle assaulted him, but this time he was left frustrated and helpless, listening to her distress as she begged staff and slaves to hide behind the barricade and then the shots as revolutionaries picked off helpless slaves who ignored her, looking for rescue. She was panting when she came back to him, in a brief respite. He pictured her holed up, covered in blood, mud and debris, face fixed in a stalwart frown._

_“_ _I fell in love, or lust, or maybe a crush, and I had sex. Hot, bed-breaking sex. I'm glad I did that.” Sophie didn't waste breath on small talk._

_“_ _Is he with you?”_

_“_ _I'm pregnant,” she continued over him, “So. I got almost everything. I've done things, been places.”_

_“_ _What the hell? Why are you there?”_

_“_ _You're supposed to say 'congratulations',”_

_He heard the plea in her words, “Congratulations, Soph. I'm an Uncle, right? Do you know if it's a boy or girl? Damn, you're going to need names.”_

_“_ _I thought Samantha, for a girl, or Jared for a boy, after his daddy.”_

_It took a minute to process her statement and then he exploded, “Jared? The son? Sophie, why aren't you with him?”_

_He heard her sniff, “My C.O. said we were chosen specially by the President, that our unit could take the heat for the longest, to get the family out. It's an honor.”_

_Ross couldn't help shouting, “You are family, that baby is his family. Does he know?”_

_“_ _He knows. I guess I'm not Presidential daughter-in-law material. Jared's young, he freaked out. I should have been more careful.”_

_“_ _Son-of-a-bitch! Sophie…”_

_“_ _Ross, don't lecture, I can't…”_

_Ross's face was wet with tears but he kept talking, about all the fun he would have with them, day trips to the beach, weekends at Disney World, movies, diapers and sleepless nights. He talked, even after Sophie's last gurgled scream, and after the call got disconnected. He was in a haze for days, returned briefly to Monkota, with fake papers, to hook up with Sophie's ma. They shared countless joints, got high as kites and remembered the good and bad times, in their own private wake._

Jensen twisted wires together and sighed. Revenge was within sight, but the view wasn't the same as he expected. Before it, he had a job to do, and there was no place for personal baggage.

He heard Jared approach, but he didn't look up.

“You're right.” The kid sat heavily on the nearest bunk.

“I was out of order,” Jensen admitted.

You called it like it is, and it hurt. I lost my temper.”

Jensen didn't look up from his task. “You're entitled to do that. I'm not.”

Jared was fiddling with the pen they had used for the crossword, “I think I needed to hear it. I want Pa to like me, but sometimes I need him to be a father. It wasn't always like this. When we were little he would work hard but he had time for us. He would check on my school work, help me with projects. If we misbehaved then it was his job to spank or strap us, but he was fair. I wanted to think the best of him. Jeff, my brother used to tell me all sorts of reasons why ma left him, but back then I never saw anything. I never believed it. Naive, I know,” he shrugged, “I had rose-tinted ideas of how it would be when I came back. He can be a lot of fun, and he never used to show his temper in public. He was always the nice guy, the reasonable man, but it was a front. I should have left the very first time I experienced his rage, but I'm not right in the head. He flogged me and the only thing I could think, through the pain, was, at least he was _seeing me_ , that he cared enough to correct me. Maybe that's why he never did it to me again. I kept rebelling, looking for attention, that he can't give me. He should have punished _me,_ not the people around me. I saw what he was doing and didn't learn. I kept pushing him for it.” He scuffed his foot along the floor, “I still love him. I know it's stupid, but he's my Pa. Can you look at me, Jensen?”

Jensen huffed, and did as he was asked. Jared tipped his head at him, his stare was wide-eyed and genuine, “I was running my mouth about flogging you, but I wouldn't have done it. You didn't doanything wrong. Then, what you did after, when you held me down – it helped. Sometimes, I feel that I'm going to fly apart unless someone stops me. You're the first person to have done that. Like glue, preventing me from shattering.” He was twirling the pen so fast Jensen thought it might take flight, “I spent some time thinking.”

“Got dressed too,” Jensen spoke gruffly.

“Even brushed my hair. Didn't want to disappoint you.” He looked shyly through strands of it. Jensen took another look, because _damn_ , even fully clothed, Jared was a fine view.

Jensen moved to be with him, stroked fingertips over his cheek, “I’m not disappointed, and there's nothing wrong with you. I can give you what you need, if you'll trust me.”

Jared stood and extended a hand to shake, “You can stop me when I'm being unreasonable, and there'll be no more threats,” he promised.

It was easier taking his hand than Jensen expected. He shook it warmly.

“Shall we do this?”

Jared nodded hesitantly. Jensen wound the handle and turned the dial until they found a news program. It was reporting on an international business conference and Jared gave a nervous laugh, “The rest of the world is still going on around us.”

Jensen adjusted the tuner, “I'll try to find something more local, but some will be blacked out.”

They dialed past the government channel, spewing propaganda without mention of an uprising, and settled on a weak signal purportedly broadcasting from a building less than five miles away. Words washed in like waves and broke up, but they heard enough.

“...siege within the President's compound continues…gunfire …ceased…. troops breaking through the cordon formed by revolutionaries…are outgunned and outnumbered, unlikely to hold out...”

They both held their breath until the reporter clarified that it was the government troops who were outgunning the revolutionaries, then Jensen switched the radio off. Jared opened his mouth to argue, and Jensen shushed him. “It's hopeful. There's no more to learn for now. Listening to it, over and over, will only stress us out. We'll work-out, play a game, and check in regularly.”

Jared reluctantly agreed. A game of poker with monopoly money quickly degenerated into friendly insults when Jensen hoarded a full stash of fake cash and laughed at him. They bet 'all-in' on a single, childish game of snap which Jared played with rambunctious enthusiasm and won. Jared scrambled to grab the money and Jensen tackled him to the ground where they wrestled and rolled on a scratchy rug until Jensen triumphantly knelt, straddling Jared's waist and pinning his arms to the floor. A confetti of colorful money was strewn around them and they were both breathing hard. It wasn't all that was hard, noted Jensen. He leaned forward and Jared lifted his head to meet his lingering, soft, kiss. They made out, right there on the floor, and Jared's mouth was the perfect shape for Jensen's, his body fit just right to his body. The way he squirmed into Jensen's hold, whimpered in his ear and begged for more, was everything Jensen needed. Jensen let go and felt it all.

Two hours later, rumpled and breathless, Jared leaned into Jensen, with his head on his shoulder, and they cranked the radio back into life.

“…renewed battle... gunships heard…President has broadcast a short message. The government stands firm…control from safe space…refugees continuing to flood highways from...unconfirmed reports of fresh graves being found...”

Jensen felt Jared flinch and looked around at him. All color had drained from his face as he bit his lip, hard enough to raise a spot of blood.

“Oh! God!”

“Jared?”

Jared remained motionless. Jensen grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. “Jared, what are they talking about?”

Jared shook his head slowly, as if returning from a trance. “Huh, no, nothing. I don't know. Fin maybe. You didn't use the furnace.”

Jensen thought about it, “I guess, maybe. They said _graves_ , were there more?”

“I don't know, no. It's easy to exaggerate once one is found.”

“There's a war, Jared.” Jensen splayed his hands as if it was obvious.

“He was a registered, marked slave, and I was the last person anyone saw with him, after I lost my temper and whipped you. What is anyone supposed to think?”

The kid had a point. Killing a slave was a lesser crime than murder, but if an owner couldn't prove treason or gross disobedience, it still carried some weight, especially in the international forum where it was a human rights transgression. Jensen put his arm around Jared's waist and kissed the top of his head. His palm rested on the nape of Jared’s neck, to massage the tense muscles, yet his mind couldn't help the little spark of glee at the leverage Fin's death offered. “Stop worrying. There are always rumors like that. You didn't do it, it wasn't your gun, and we're going to get out of here safely. I'm here for you. I saw what happened.”

“Okay, thanks.” Jared relaxed for a moment then tensed again, “But then… Pa…”

“Sshh. You come first. He taught you to tell the truth surely?”

“Yes, but…”

“No excuses, Jared. If it comes to an inquiry, you'll be honest, or so help me, I will put you over my lap and spank you myself,” There was a hard edge to Jensen's threat. The fight left Jared and he nodded dumbly. “Good. Now, you and I are going to find out what weapons are of any use and we are going to break some mirrors and fishing rods to make something that lets us look around corners. It will keep us busy.”

“Breaking a mirror is seven years bad luck.”

“Not having a mirror might be immediate bad luck, and that is fact rather than superstition. Don't be a pussy.”

Jared bristled at the insult and Jensen squeezed the back of his neck tightly, “Let it go! I mean it affectionately.”

Jared leaned into his hold, letting the tension out on a long exhalation of breath. “Yeah, okay. What do I need to do?”

Jensen thought the boy might have some backbone after all.

 


	9. Big Bang 2013: Have Hatred and Gravity Won - 8/19

  
“

  
  
  
They would have come for us. Are you sure?”  


“Of course I'm not sure; I'm an accountant, Jared.”

“We could give it another day.” Jared didn't like to think what might be waiting for them on their run through the trees to the ranch, or what he might find there. There had been three days of safety in the lodge bunker and, if he had to be honest, there were other reasons he didn't want it to end.  He liked Jensen _a lot,_ and he didn't want to compromise the relationship they had developed. He could admit that the sex was hot, but it was more than that, he let Jensen lead and dominate. Beyond sex, Jared was happy when Jensen took control, and he couldn't risk his father noticing.

“If there's going to be another move, you'll need to catch a ride.”

Jared's heart missed a beat, “But what about you?”

“I doubt there'll be room for me, but you'll be safe. It's what counts.”

Jared put a hand to the wall and stood his ground. He couldn't lose him that way. “No. I won't go without you. There was talk, last time, about what happened. I'm not leaving you behind.”

Jensen prodded him in the ribs, “C'mon. Don't be such a pessimist. According to the news, everything is quiet, and getting back to normal.”

“Maybe they're saying that so we come out.”

Jensen glared at him.

“You could escape. I could say they took you, and killed you; that I made it back here without you. There must be some way we can get your collar off, throw it in the lake. You could run now, and in the chaos they might not find you. You'd be free and safe, and so would your sister.” Jared chewed his lip, he wanted Jensen to stay with him, but he wanted him to run and live too. Whatever his answer, he wasn't prepared for it.

Jensen looked shocked, “You'd do that for me?”

Jared grabbed his arm and pulled him close. He reached a hand to circle the leather of his collar. Jensen let him. “You mean more to me than this, but if you go back with me, it will define you.”

He felt the grip of long fingers on his hips and he was face to face with Jensen in an instant. Green eyes searched his face, as if looking for answers. “I'm coming with you. No arguments.” Jensen told him. Jared huffed and closed his eyes. He felt the gentle kiss of lips on the upturn of his nose before Jensen trailed his lips to mouth wetly at his ear lobe, “If you quit stalling, I'll blow you when we get there.”

Jared gasped, and Jensen used the opportunity to kiss him quick with sliding, full lips and a minty deep lick of his tongue. He gave a sharp smack to Jared's ass as he ended it with a satisfied hum.

“Ready?” Jensen's question didn't need an answer. Jared patted the hunting knife at his side and raised the gun in his right hand.

Jensen lightly pushed the gun barrel down. “Guns make noise. Only use it in an absolute emergency. The knife is better.”

Jared giggled nervously, “You make it sound like you're such a pro.”

“Us mathletes are super-competitive. You have no idea,” Jensen teased him.

The main lock sounded like a crack of lightening in the silence that surrounded them. Jared was sure he actually jumped, and Jensen's mouth twitched. Jared watched Jensen as he drew breath. With flashlight in one hand and knife in the other, he swung the door wide. The hidden basement corridor was empty, with no evidence of discovery. They inched their way to the stone-camouflaged main door, every sound magnified by fear. For the first time, Jared noticed the musty dampness, and the length and direction of it, and realized that the bunker must be under the lake. He shivered, he was glad he hadn't thought about it before, or claustrophobia might have overtaken him.

Fingers to his lips, Jensen opened the next door. The white light of an 'exit sign' made them both blink. They raised their weapons, but there was only an empty cellar and the eerie buzz of a low-energy lamp.

Jensen reached a palm to Jared's chest, a brief reassurance to slow Jared's racing heart. There was only a stairway that remained between them and the lodge where, only days before, they had been so carefree, preparing their fishing tackle. The old wooden steps creaked with every footfall and they winced each time. They stopped to take a breath before they left this last safety. Jared reached for Jensen's hand around the torch. They nodded together, and cracked the door a fraction for Jensen to use his mirror. With another nod they slunk through the doorway.

The Lodge was devastated.  Breeze stirred shards of glass, splinters of wood and ash. Looters had stripped walls and display cases clean, and struck matches to char the furniture. Glass crackled underfoot as they made their way out, back to back, alert for any sign of life, except the flap of a bird frightened from its roost. Jared spun on his heel, tensed his hand around his gun and then relaxed when it flew past and out of the window. He resumed his step, but not before his head crunched into a cabinet which jutted out, hanging by a single bracket, from the wall. He swore and stumbled, there was a piercing pain in his head and his vision blacked momentarily. The cabinet tumbled from its precarious fixing with a clatter that reverberated through the silence. Jensen's capable hands seemed to be all around him, steadying him, and dragging him away, preventing it from falling on his foot.

“So much for stealth!” Jensen wheezed, trying not to laugh, but they clung to each other, and to their weapons, waiting for something to happen.

A drip of blood trickled down Jared's cheek and he smeared it with the back of his hand. Jensen offered a tissue to dab at it. “Not too bad, must have caught the corner. We should move out in case anyone heard us,” he whispered.

Jared tested his balance gingerly, “I'm okay.”

Jensen removed his support gradually. Then, they were moving again, past blackened security cameras and into the trees, avoiding the main path. This time Jensen led, and there was no detour and no leash.

The continuing quiet was unsettling, leaves rustled and sticks broke underfoot, but there was no birdsong, no distant drone of traffic or faint snippets of guards whistling.

Jensen stepped over the body of a young man with gray skin and rigor-mortis, Jared skirted around it, averting his eyes. The rumble of an armored car grew loud and then receded as it approached and passed on the other side of the compound fence. They hid in a thicket and watched it. Jared noted its markings with relief, “Ours.”

“Looks like a patrol,” noted Jensen. “It means there's control. The trick now, will be to make sure they don't shoot us first, and ask questions later. They might not recognize me, so that job falls to you.”

Jared's stomach turned flip-flops. The possibility of dying by friendly fire when they'd got this far, hadn't occurred to him.

They reached the edge of the trees opposite the guard house and dropped weapons to the ground. With a prayer, and trembling hands held above their heads, they approached the soldiers on duty. Excited shouting preceded the shouldering of a gun and suddenly Jensen was barreling into Jared, flinging him to the ground. Jared cowered on the sharp gravel with his hands over his head as sturdy boots circled them and issued a hefty kick to his ribs. There was the scuffing sound of it being repeated on Jensen, and it made Jared furious. He opened his mouth to shout, but Jensen was already speaking, calm, terse and commanding.

“One kick to the President's property might be excused, further assault on the President's son is guaranteed to bring you pain. We demand to talk with your Commanding Officer, or any one of the President's own security detail. If you value your life you will take the time to identify us and escort Jared to his quarters.”

The soldier snorted his disdain, “Nobody asked you to speak, slave.” There was another thud and a groan from Jensen.

Jared slowly uncurled and raised his head, looking in terror down the barrel of a gun. “I gave the slave permission to speak, you moron, nobody asked you to comment. You touch him again and I won't hesitate to demand you be flogged. I shall repeat his instruction in case you are hard of hearing; you will escort us back to our quarters and inform my father that I am safe.”  

There was rapid consultation in the guard-room, a static-ridden message on comms, and then the gun was being lowered. A hand was offered to help him up and dust him down. Jared waved them away and bent to help Jensen who swore under his breath and clutched at his ribs, “Son of a bitch.”

“He should be on a leash when he’s outside,” one of the soldiers commented. Jared was furious, his hand formed a fist before he could help himself, and the soldier found himself sprawling on the dusty road.

“If he was on a leash he wouldn't have been able to stop you motherfuckers from killing me. This slave saved the life of the President's son today. What did you do?”

“Get them inside, quickly. Are you stupid?” Corporal Hodge's voice boomed over a distance. It was the best thing he'd ever heard. Jared turned to greet him, suddenly quaking and nauseous.

“I can't move so quick, but my nose works perfect. Could smell ya coming.” Aldis grinned one eyed, with a bandage over the other, and hopped on one leg between crutches.

Jared hugged him loosely, afraid to hurt him. “I am so glad to see you, Aldis.”

“Reckon I saved your ass, boys. Hurry up, explanations later. Watch your step. The live ammo has been cleared but there's still some wickedly sharp debris.”

“You got injured, sorry.”

“Ain't your fault. I reckon I got off lucky. There's some didn't make it,”

“I wouldn't have either, if it hadn't been for Jensen,” Jared patted Jensen's arm.

Jensen looked embarrassed. “I should join the clean-up, as soon as Jared is settled. There must be a lot to do.”

Aldis glanced at Jared to see his reaction to his slave making his own decisions, “There is, but I reckon it is Jared's decision.”

“We'll both help,” confirmed Jared.

Aldis's eyebrows shot up with surprise but he didn't say a thing.

“Jared mustn't do anything until he's had the cut on his head examined and dressed. Is there a medic available?” Jensen smoothly arranged for Jared's care.

By the time they reached Jared's room, Aldis had heard most of their story, neatly edited to cut out the considerable hours they had spent exploring each other's bodies. They learned that control had indeed been wrested back in all major cities, and that Jared's pa was unhurt but raging with anger and a thirst for revenge.

“Did he ask about me?” Jared wondered.

Aldis, looked at the floor, “He had a lot going on. There was chaos. Some of us checked the main ranch, but we were given other orders.”

Jared blinked back a tear. “Right, well, it's good that I had Jensen.” He repeated himself, “I had Jensen.” 

Jensen's warm hand splayed over the small of his back, to guide him to the sofa, “He took quite a bump to his head. I'll take it from here,” he explained.

“I'll send a medic.” Aldis hobbled away and Jensen shut the door behind him.

“You owe me a blow-job,” hissed Jared with a dimpled grin, the moment the door was locked.

“You're injured,” commented Jensen primly.

“My cock is perfectly healthy, except it aches, and I think there's some swelling.”

Jensen's eyes sparkled and he was trying his hardest to keep his face straight. “The medic could be here any time. Perhaps he should take a look.”

“You promised,” Jared whined.

Jensen stood over him, pushed him back into the sofa playfully, “Oh, baby boy. You disappoint me. You didn't ask nicely.”

Jared’s bruised rib twinged but he wasn't going to let it get in the way of Jensen's promise. “Please, please, please, please, sexy daddy, you promised to suck my dick,” he pouted.

“You've got a kinky, filthy mouth, baby boy.”

Jared couldn't help the jolt of lust that hit him at Jensen's words.  “Please,” he begged.

Jensen dropped to his knees and spread Jared's legs to kneel between them. “You were so good, so brave, you did everything I told you, and you beg so beautifully. Good boys get their rewards,” he spoke, low and husky. Jensen looked up into Jared's face, even as his deft fingers unzipped Jared's fly to release his proud and erect cock. His eyelashes fluttered and the golden sprinkle of freckles over his nose seemed to sparkle. “You can hold my head, or my hair, I don't mind.”   

He wasn't aware that he'd been waiting for permission until it was granted. Jared placed a hand on Jensen's head to run his fingers through the short, dust-ridden hair. Despite the grit from their ordeal, the act still soothed Jared. The O of Jensen's perfect mouth, swallowing him down, in one swift move, jolted him from his calm. He jerked forward into the heat and wet and suction, because _fuck, nothing should feel that good_. Jensen choked slightly and adjusted his angle. He sucked a wet trail all the way back to the tip of Jared's dick before swirling his tongue all around, and over the pulsing vein. Jared tipped his hips up as Jensen's fingers reached into his pants to cup his sacs and stroke the sensitive skin behind them.

A gentle tug on Jensen's head had him sliding plush, tight lips down Jared’s shaft once more, with his tongue exploring every inch.

“So good, daddy. There, please, more.” He snapped his hips looking for more depth. Jensen stared up at him briefly, then swallowed it all down, with his nose nestling in the wiry hairs of Jared's crotch and his throat fluttering deliciously around his length. Jared didn't know how long he could hold out. His fingers clutched and pulled at Jensen's hair as he drew back and fucked his face again. Jensen pushed down to meet his thrust, eager to take it. Words gave way to speechless groans. He fucked enthusiastically, spurred on by Jensen's obvious enjoyment. He came deep in Jensen's throat with a yell and the bright explosion of ecstatic sensation that tingled through every pore and nerve. He slumped, exhausted, and let Jensen clean him with gentle licks and finally a damp cloth. He closed his eyes.

Jared felt Jensen's presence looming over him, and heard the steady slap of flesh on flesh as he drifted in his post-orgasmic haze. “Not finished yet, baby, give me your hand.” Jared opened one eye to the close presence of Jensen's hard-on. “Almost there, gonna mark you mine,” He wrapped his fingers over Jensen's hand as he pumped his cock. “Open your eyes and your mouth, I want you to see me and taste me.”

He opened his eyes, looked up into Jensen's green gaze and the shame of his carved mark on the handsome face. He let his slave’s come splash and dribble down his cheek and over his lashes, and he licked droplets from his lips. He remembered to thank him. When he grabbed tissues to clean up, Jensen stayed his hand. “I want to look at you like that.” Jared obediently put the tissue away and resisted wiping his sleeve over the mess. Jensen sat next to him on the sofa with a happy sigh and pulled Jared down to rest his head on his shoulder. “Are you going to tell me what's going on with all this 'daddy' stuff, Jared?”

Jared shifted uncomfortably and turned his face into Jensen's shoulder, “You started it.”

“But you're really into it, aren't you?”

“It's hot, especially when you call me baby boy.”

“I'm not your pa.”

“I know. I don't call you pa. You're better. I'm sorry, does it disgust you?”

“No, no,” Jensen stroked his shoulder, “I didn't expect you to continue, and it's not about your age with me. I can't be your pa and it would worry me if your pa had...y'know, what we have, but you could talk to me.”

“Oh, ew, no,” Jared gagged at the thought, “It's nothing like that. I like the way you take care of me. It turns me on. Do you want me to stop?”

Jensen shook his head, “I'm not a prude. I've done some fairly wild things. I've been...” he seemed to struggle to find words, “….I've never thought of myself as the daddy type, but it works. It's not wrong or perverted. It's a kink I can do. Just make sure your real pa never finds out. I don't think he'd be as open-minded.”

“I know. Thanks.” Jared snuggled contentedly into Jensen's side and closed his eyes again.

A cool cloth wiped gently over his face, and soft lips kissed his forehead, “Got to clean my filthy baby boy. Rest.”

They snoozed until the medic arrived. While Jared's wounds were dressed, Jensen busied himself preparing the washroom for Jared's shower, making coffee and cleaning dust from the surfaces. He knelt by Jared's side to present his coffee, and called him Master, like a well trained slave should.

 

  
Jared swept dust, while Jensen wielded a spade to collect debris. Their workplace, near the entrance of the ranch gave Jensen unprecedented opportunity to observe the security systems and routines. The novelty of the unsecured slave and his busy Master wore off after a few hours, and the security team left them alone, apart from fleeting visits by Aldis to give them directions and moral support. When Jared started to tire, Jensen snatched the broom from him and ordered him back to his room. Aldis waved Jensen away to collect their dinner from the kitchen, on his own. Jensen hid a smirk. Fortune had provided him with the opportunities and trust he needed.   


He chatted to cook as he waited, asked after the President, for his son, and wondered if he was managing to eat properly, and if he came out of his room. The kitchen staff laughed, grateful for normal conversation.

“President Padalecki hasn't changed his routine one bit. The only difference is that he continues to work, while he dines. He's had a direct line installed at the table. He's an example to us all.” The cook's distaste for the man was disguised but Jensen saw the tells in her expression.

“I'll let Jared know. He won't wish to interrupt his father's work.”

She nodded sagely. “Prob'ly best. You take a plate for yourself. I heard you've been busy. We need everyone to keep their strength.”

Jensen took both portions gratefully and turned to leave. Madison followed at a distance, watching him intently. He walked a few paces, until they were alone, near the kitchen, then he stopped and turned to face her. “Why are you following me?”

“Some says there was graves found. If you're Jared's, what happened to Fin?”

“He's not coming back. Nothing anyone can do.” He resumed walking. Madison fled back to the kitchen in tears.

Jensen ran errands until it got late. The President's staff were grateful for any extra help, and reassured by the story of Jared's rescue. It granted him access to areas that were previously off-limits, and he carefully committed them all to memory. Security at the compound gate was bulked up with young soldiers, fresh through training, and the numbers within the ranch were severely depleted. Internal cameras still followed his every move, but Danni would deal with them.

Aldis cornered him on the way back to Jared's room, “Early warning, his pa is visiting him. He wants to see you.”

Jensen stiffened. He sure as hell had no desire to see President Padalecki. Getting killed now would screw with his pension fund.

“Relax. He's grateful to have Jared back. I'll take you in. Remember your place, yeah?”

“Why the concern for me?”

“Jared has been lost and angry since we got to the ranch. You're good for him. Everyone has noticed it.”

“Teenagers are supposed to be confused and angry, it's their job.”

“Yeah, well. It's been less since he's had you.”

Jensen pushed away the curl of happiness the knowledge gave him. It wasn't appropriate to his mission. He lowered his eyes as he entered the room, and knelt at Jared's feet for instructions. He was Jared's slave, and he wouldn't give the President the satisfaction of his direct submission. Jared's hand rested on his head as he listened to his father's platitudes, but nobody spoke to Jensen. The President droned on about politics, allies and theories. Jensen listened, but there was nothing new in it. He sensed Jared's boredom and leaned against his leg and into his touch.

Before he left the room, the President gave Jared a tight hug, with real affection and a touch of possessiveness. The “I love you, Son,” he uttered mid-squeeze, surprised Jensen as much as it appeared to surprise Jared. Jared clung on to the moment until his father pulled away and crooked his finger for Jensen to stand. Jensen watched the display, and in the moment, he hated them both with an unnatural intensity. It was something he could never have with his father, and it was an effort to keep his expression neutral. He was a superb at burying his emotions though, he had years of experience. 

Dark hazel eyes assessed him and fingers touched his collar. “I hear you brought my Jared home safely. It's good to know that you take your duties seriously.”

“Yessir,” Jensen answered smartly. _He silently wished a slow and painful death on Jared and his Pa._

“There is a lot to be done. I'm sure my son will use you wisely. Make sure you don't disappoint us.”

“I hope to surprise you with my efforts, sir.” Jensen smiled brightly. He meant every word.

Jared collapsed onto the sofa as soon as his father left. “Ugh. You must be exhausted. There's hot water for a shower. I already had mine.”

“Thanks.”

Jensen hadn't realized how dirty and tired he was. His bruised ribs ached and his eyes wanted to close, but he could cope. He had taken worse.  He stripped, taking care to remove the sedatives he had stolen from the bunker, and secrete them in a gap behind the plumbing. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the soothing jets of hot water and creamy lather. Jared followed him into the bathroom, to lean against the vanity unit and talk to him. “I told him I won't tie you up like a dog. He didn't have much to say about it. He thought I had run, or was dead. He was quite emotional at first.” The unspoken words “He didn't look for me,” hung in the air, but Jensen didn't challenge him.

When Jensen was done, with his hair toweled dry, they tumbled naked into bed together. Jared wrapped his arms and legs around Jensen like an octopus, and Jensen curled his arm around Jared's shoulder. They kissed until sleep pulled them both under. 


	10. Big Bang 2013: Have Hatred and Gravity Won - 9/19

  
Morning light filtered through the ash-grimy window. Jensen opened his eyes. Heavy weight and heat told him that Jared was still wrapped around him in slumber. He smelled of morning breath and sleepy sweat, and he was acres of golden smooth and young flesh. He had a gorgeous body.   


Jensen savored the sight, the last time he would have this. Ross pulled every ounce of hate and years of resentment to the surface, and wondered how Jared would look when his last breath was gone. Still pretty, he was willing to bet.

Jared stirred and stretched. Jensen deflected his wayward hand from knocking against his face. Brilliant multi-hued eyes flickered open between thick lashes. “Hi,” Jared greeted him sleepily.

“Hey you,” Jensen brushed wayward strands of shiny brown hair from his boy's face. He would take and enjoy what Jared offered so readily, one last time. He smoothed his other hand over Jared's shoulder and traced the nubs of his spine until he reached the round swell of his ass. Jared moaned, “You make me so horny,” and rolled chest-to-mattress, spreading his legs wide for Jensen's touch.

“Such a slut for daddy,”

“ _Jesus_ ,” Jared swore under his breath. Jensen could see he was already hard.

Jensen kissed his way down Jared's back. He parted his firm globes, licked his finger and gently swirled it around the puckered hole. “Lube?” he breathed. Jared stretched a hand to pull at the nightstand drawer. He pulled too hard and the entire contents clattered out onto the floor. “Not much of a boy scout, clumsy boy,” Jensen growled.

He idly considered how Jared would look with the red flush of a hand print on his skin and decided to find out.  He raised his arm to swat his hand sharply across one cheek. Jared jumped and yelped. Jensen leaned his weight into him to keep him still, then rubbed the flesh where a pinkish hue was showing. He raised his hand once more and waited to see what Jared would do or say. There was no protest, just a low pitched whine. He brought it down with speed and force, next to the first mark. Jared squirmed and cried out, but he didn't ask Jensen to stop. “I think you want this, or do you need it? Does it make you feel better or does it turn you on, baby boy?” He cracked another swat into the smooth skin and watched as Jared snapped his hips to gain friction for his cock against the bed. Jensen tutted and hauled him by his hips until he was on all fours, offering his ass into the air. “You didn't answer me.” Jensen spanked three times in quick succession. The reddening hand-prints were satisfying and Jared's quickened breath matched the pointless thrust of his cock, looking for friction in the air.  

“Yes, both,” Jared panted, “It feels good, wrong-good, and it turns me on, okay, so please fuck me soon.”

“There's that dirty mouth, again.” The noise of four more, rapid smacks resonated. Jared whimpered, “Stings.”

Jensen kneaded the bruising flesh, enjoying the sensation and the little throaty noises that Jared made. His hand grasped his own cock and stroked. His dick was hard as diamonds and he could see that Jared's was too. He wriggled to one side and stretched a hand down to grab the lube that had rolled from the drawer. It squirted cold onto his fingers, and he drizzled it straight onto Jared's hole, enjoying the hiss of surprise he produced.

“I'll be good,” promised Jared, and wiggled his hips sexily.

“Oh, I know you will, baby. Gonna be good and tight for daddy.”

The groan that elicited was pure porn. Jensen couldn't wait any longer. He coated his fingers with lube and probed, stretching the tight muscle until it could take two. He pushed in, letting the tight channel grip him, appreciating its warmth and scissoring slowly. Jared pushed back against him impatiently and he corrected him with the two squelching slaps on his darkening ass cheeks. When three fingers slid easily into his channel, Jensen withdrew his fingers, lubed his cock generously and lined up behind Jared. He heard the hitch of breath with the first nudge of the head of his cock, and saw Jared's fingernails scrabble into the bedding as he breached the tight muscles. He only stopped for a fraction of a second before he gripped Jared's hips, pulling him back while he pushed forward, to impale him. He felt Jared's shiver and stopped, deep to the hilt. He put his own hands over Jared's to hold him still and reassure him while he nuzzled and kissed the back of his neck and sucked a small purple round below his ear. 

“Am I hurting you?” Why did he care?

“No.”

Jensen licked a stripe down his spine as he slid his cock all the way from Jared's hole.

“I said, I'm okay,” protested Jared.

“Turn around, I want to see your face.” _Stupid, stupid Jensen. Personal gets a man dead._ Inside Jensen was angry with Jared, he shouldn’t want this from him. He lifted Jared's hips, bent his knees and spread him wide, then fucked him slow and deep, eyes open, watching every twitch of _his_ boy's mouth, the clasp of his fingers, the roll of his eyes and flutter of lashes. He bent to taste his nipples, to suck and squeeze at them, and when Jared was close, they thrust against each other in ever increasing time, while he mouthed at every available inch of skin and kissed the words away from those wide, cussing, kinky lips. He reached down to stroke Jared's handsome cock, and he felt the clench of muscles around his own as Jared spurted come into globs on his belly. Jensen came straight after, with a laugh and a “J _esus, fuck, yes, fuck,”_ cried out on panted breath. They fell into each other's arms in an unruly tangle and stayed there until the come cooled sticky, and Jared woke himself with a snore.

Jensen didn't sleep. He unconsciously stroked Jared's skin. He stared up at the ceiling, examined every mark and crack, and wondered just what the hell was happening to him.

 

  
Jared chose to work in his father's office, while Jensen joined a team carrying out minor repairs. He worked with the slave who was Jensen's replacement, shredding a stack of documents that was piled high in the store room. She was petite, yet curvy with dark eyes, shiny dark hair, a pretty smile and a sexy swing to her hips. Once, he might have hit on her, but now they worked in silence. His emotions were a mess and he didn't know what to think.   


Fucking the slaves started as a petty rebellion and a distraction for his boredom. It had turned into a nightmare when his father reacted to his challenge. Fin was buried in the compound and the body of another slave had been taken to the furnace, as proof of his pa's wrath, or maybe his jealousy. He should have learned his lesson the first time. Hell, he should have learned to keep his dick in his pants after Sophie. Even better, he should have got the first flight back to America when he still had access to his trust fund. He shouldn't be here, trapped and in love with a slave, more than ten years his senior, who gave him chills he couldn't explain, blew hot and cold with him, and changed the subject whenever it strayed to future plans. Everything about what they did together was wrong, but Jared didn't think he could stop. It was hotter than he'd ever imagined sex could be. His head was a muddle trying to work out if he was taking advantage of Jensen, or if Jensen was taking advantage of him. Whichever it was, he had already been responsible for two deaths, and now put Jensen's life at risk too. Jared let the repetition of his task numb his thoughts.

At lunchtime, Jared sat on a bench in one of the enclosed courtyards between tastefully arranged potted trees, with Jensen sitting cross legged at his feet. The breeze blew around them and they warmed their hands around mugs of coffee.  

Jensen broke the awkward silence, “It's peaceful here. It reminds me of a coffee shop I used to go to, with my little sister, they had cupcakes and an amazing roast bean blend…,” he stopped abruptly.

“Sorry. I didn't bring you here to remind you.”

“No, it's all I've got now, memories. I want to keep them.”

“It's not alright. It's so fucked up! All of it!” Jared couldn't help his frustrated outburst.

“Been that way for a long time. Even before your pa. When you came back, why did you stay?”

“Lots of reasons.”

Jensen looked surprised at the reply.

Jared continued, “When we ran to America, pa was a small player in politics here, a factory foreman with a golden tongue. Ma took nothing with her. We never belonged. We were another immigrant family who spoke with a strange accent and struggled to put food on the table. Even when my brother got a job with a wage that matched my mother's, we never had much. So, this lifestyle, with exotic food on the table, expensive clothes, a college education and a trust fund if I stayed, it seduced and blinkered me. Even without it, for all the screw-up that this nation is, at least I belonged. This is my home, not necessarily this ranch, but this country. I had an ambition to rebuild the infrastructure. I wanted to design bridges and put the railroad back.”

He slurped his coffee. “There was somebody too. We shared the same sort of dreams. We were stupid, young, idealists. A soldier, and a student. In our world, pa would lead the country to a bright new future, she would fight to unite the country, and I was going to mend it.”

There was a bright, curious gleam in Jensen's eyes, “She was the one you broke up with by text?”

It still hurt. Jared could admit that he hadn't loved her romantically, but there had been love, an undeniable connection and friendship. There had been _a child_. “Lack of text,” he clarified abruptly, “It was a bad time, the first time I truly understood that it's not fixable. That it won't end well. We ran, in radio silence, I didn't even question it. Then it was too late.” Jared wiped a tear from his eye.

“It's never too late.” Jensen spoke flatly, like he didn't believe his own words.

Jared snorted, “Oh, yeah, it is. She died.”

“I'm sorry,” Jensen said, only it didn't sound like he meant it.

“You didn't know her,” he snapped, “The thing is, I blamed my father. I thought he abandoned her, because he wanted her out of my life. I felt so angry and trapped, and I used her as an excuse. I did things, unforgivable things. I used people to spite him, even less suitable matches, slaves, and they got hurt. Now, I _can't_ go back. I can't look my brother or sister in the eyes, or hope for understanding in other countries. I let myself do it again with you. I put you in danger.” Admitting his guilt was painful.

“Hey, I've been in danger since the day I got here. I seem to remember preying on the ass-virgin. It's not like I didn't have a vivid demonstration of the dangers. I wanted to fuck you. I love fucking you. Besides, your pa likes me. I'm a staid and responsible accountant, and I rescued you. He even let me off my leash, literally.” Jensen touched his collar and grinned at Jared.

“He still believes in this country. Sometimes, I catch a glimpse of the man I remember, and he loves me, in his own way, _he does_.” Jared wondered who he was trying to convince. “He's organized a new tutor and asked me to have dinner with him tonight. I said I wanted to build bridges…” he chuckled wryly.

Jensen seemed to stiffen and draw breath before speaking, “Just you and him, in private?” he asked.

“No, I'm fairly sure he means I'm welcome at the main table once more, after the _incident_ with you _._ ”

“Don't go.” Jensen's words came out in a rush, and then he calmed, “I've seen how it can be. There will be drink and too much war talk. You can invite him to dinner, one day next week. I'll set up a table in a private room, and pace the flow of wine. You can talk properly. Give it a real chance.”

“He'll think I'm being rude.”

“You're tired and your head aches. I'll give your excuses.”

“Don't think we'll be fucking, when he comes to find me,” Jared warned.

Jensen rolled his eyes, “I won't be there. I'll make myself scarce.”

They both knew the chances of his father looking for Jared were slim.

Jared spoke between bites of his pastry, “I'll think about it. Come and find me studying in the library this afternoon. Bring soda and chocolate. Student food!” Jared cheered up a little at the thought of something normal.

“You're a giant kid,” teased Jensen, brushing the crumbs of his own pastry from his clothes.

Jared leaned to whisper in his ear, “I'm your baby boy.”

 

  
Jensen stepped off the ladder and took a second look at the penciled arrow mark on the ceiling.   


“You should take a break. I think you've worked harder than anyone else on my team.” Lauren, the housekeeper, smiled at him.

“I took a snack to Jared earlier. He's studying. I'll be breaking off to serve his dinner when everyone else is working. I'll get these cracks marked up then come back and fill them when you're all off duty. It's not difficult, and I like to be busy.”

Lauren squinted at the ragged hole in the ceiling plaster, “The old place sure took a pounding. I'll get you some filler, a pot of paint and a hall pass, shall I?”

Jensen inwardly cheered, but his face remained blank, “Thanks. It'll get the place fixed up a whole lot faster.” He wondered if she knew what an RPG could do to the ranch.  

Jared was still in the library when he got back. Jensen frowned and checked that the kid’s coffee mug was empty. Jared yawned. “I've almost finished my essay,” he boasted.

“You look beat. Are you going to dinner with your father?”

“No, you're right. I am tired, I don't want to wait, and it always drags on. I'm thinking that I can have a quick, early meal, then come back and finish my essay. Are you going to be here? Lauren brought an all-house pass for you. She said you volunteered to patch ceilings or something.”

“Do you mind?”

“No. Of course not. Everyone thinks you're brilliant, and I'm a hero for lending you out. It works for me.”

“You'll do better with that essay if you take a break. The library will still be here tomorrow.” The lie rolled easily off Jensen's tongue.

“I guess so. You collect dinner while I pack up. Make sure you get a decent hot meal for yourself.”

Jensen set out the meal, twisted the cap off the sedative stolen from the lodge bunker and poured it into Jared's soda, then waited. The drug was a courtesy to prevent Jared being in the direct fire zone of a wire-guided rocket grenade. He convinced himself it was because he wanted to see Jared suffer before he died. There was no other reasonable explanation.

Jared drank his soda in three gulps, as he always did. He frowned at the last mouthful. “Does this soda taste funny to you?”

Jensen sipped his drink, “No.”

“Oh, right.” Jared took a mouthful of steak, and chewed enthusiastically. A spot of gravy pooled in the crease of his mouth. Jensen leaned in to dab it away with a napkin,

“Messy boy,” he murmured.

“I thought daddy liked my mouth all messy,” quipped Jared, with a dirty grin.

“Gravy doesn't count, baby boy.” The banter came so easily between them, and it always made Jensen smile. He was going to miss it.

“Shame.”

Jared ate about half of his dinner before he yawned and put down his cutlery. “I feel weird,” he giggled, “Did you drug me...again?” He swayed where he sat.

“Yes. We should get you to bed.”

Jared squinted at him but his eyes were unfocussed, “Oh. Why?”

“To keep you safe, for now. Don't argue with me. Daddy knows what's best, doesn't he?”

“Mmhm.”

Jensen helped Jared to bed before he became a dead weight. He removed his boots and swung his legs onto the mattress, placing him on his side to ensure he wouldn't choke. He left a glass of water for when he woke.  Bleary hazel eyes blinked up at him. “Jen-sen?”

His gaze lingered over the long, lithe body, stared at the golden expanse of neck and smiled at the moles he could count on his face. He reached fingers to stroke the soft messy hair, and caressed his cheek. “No, baby boy. Not Jensen at all.”  He counted down until Jared's eyes closed properly, kissed him lightly on the forehead and straightened up.

Misha had been right. Cracking his tooth hurt like a bitch. It took three attempts with a heavy screwdriver, bled like a stuck pig, and what remained was sharp and cut into his mouth, but the transmitter, well, that was perfect.

He grabbed his hall pass, collected his tools and made his way to the first of his arrowed markers, above the door which the security team used to travel back and forth to the main gatehouse. With the scrape of a trowel and a little filler the transmitter was buried in place.  He timed his tasks carefully. When Madison paced down the corridor with a tray of coffee for the guards at the front gate, his ladder blocked the way and paint was precariously balanced. “Pass it over, I'll take it the rest of the way,” he offered.

Madison looked at him doubtfully, “You don't know the code for the door.”

“I don't think you do either.”

“Of course I do,” she said, haughtily.

She didn't. He knew a bluff when he saw one. “They have their coffee at the same time into each shift. They'll open the door, or go thirsty.”

She huffed. “Don't spill it, or you'll get me into trouble.”

“I won't.”

It was an easy sleight of hand, to drop just enough sedative into each cup to slow the reflexes of a large man, or make a smaller person drowsy.

The tray was passed through, the door banged to, but with a toe just in time, and a wedge cut from a paintbrush, it didn’t lock. Jensen sent up a silent plea for Danni to be on-the-ball. He waited a minute, with bated breath, and the lack of alarm was reassuring. One last walk-through confirmed his direction markers were in place – giving a route to the dining hall, and cutting off bunker access. He was back on his stepladder, within view of the door when he heard the sound of Aldis's crutches clicking against the floor.

“Oh, hey, wait a minute, man, and I'll have this out of your way.”

“It's okay. I'm not on duty.” Aldis indicated his injuries, “Everyone is short-handed, I'm just doin' a favor. The control room is getting some strange interference on cameras. Have you seen anything odd? Wires out of place? Any strangers?”

“Everyone's strange around here, but no, no strangers.”

“And you're here alone?” Aldis looked around, and up at the ceiling crack Jensen was filling.

Jensen produced his all-ranch hall pass, and Aldis scrutinized it. There was a moment when Aldis looked as if he would turn around and leave him to his task, but Jensen could see a slight change in his expression, and the unconscious pat for his gun, when he figured out that something wasn't quite right.

“All those markers are for damage to be filled?”

“Uh-huh, lot of work.” Jensen braced himself on the bottom rung, keeping a height advantage.

“See, most people would use some sort of system so they didn't miss any…”

“I was an accountant, not a decorator.”

Aldis's left crutch rocked as he reached for the button on his walkie-talkie, “Jensen …”

“Sorry.” Jensen’s transformation into Ross was instant. Excitement and adrenalin flowed, senses became hyper alert, and a simple kick to the left crutch, with a solid right hook to the corporal's chin was all it took. Duct tape rendered Aldis immobile and soundless, in the nearby washroom. Jensen patted him down for weapons, and grabbed his walkie-talkie, impressed with the way his luck was running. He kicked his decorating equipment to one side, and waited for whatever patrols might come. He was fully committed; with no way out if JD didn't deliver his team soon.

Misha was first through the door, in the uniform of the President's own security team. He hugged his comrade, “I thought you'd screwed up for sure.”

“They don't call me the king of improvisation for nothing. Did you get the gate?”

“Danni grabbed the external comms, and main camera circuit. The gate went down easy. No kills needed. Your doing, I presume? JD's covered it with some of Quintas's men. It looks authentic from a distance.”

Jensen eyed Misha's costume critically, “The uniform isn't going to help. Everyone here is on first name terms.”

“But I look pretty, admit it.”

“You look pretty, Misha,” Jensen stuck his tongue out at him, “Pay attention solja boy; you're following the yellow brick road.” He pointed up at the arrow on the ceiling. Misha's grin was huge and pearly toothed as he traced the line of the ceiling and found the next one. “Holy shit, Ross! You're good!”

The name caught him off-guard. Ross wasn't his real name, but since hooking up with JD it had fit him. Now, he didn't feel like Ross any more. Jensen had managed to get under his skin and he didn't know what to think of it. He buried the doubt. Whatever his name, he was the same soldier he'd always been. He regained his mind space, he was lethal, inventive, and invincible, and this was his gig.

JD crept in with ten of his best. _The Dream Team_. He threw a flak jacket and pack at Jensen. His grizzled face broke into a grin as Jensen caught it all in steady hands. “Nice work.”

“You're welcome,” he replied with the toss of the walkie-talkie, tuned to the security team's frequency.

Danni thrust his favorite assault rifle at him and he grasped its familiar cold power. “Control Room!” she demanded, without preamble, but the sparkle in her eyes indicated that she was happy to see him, even if she seemed to flinch on her second glance at him.

There was the growl of a personnel truck passing through the gate, and they were in business.

 

***

  
  
  
Jensen propped the door of the Control Room open. He admired Danneel's flexibility, skill and strength. Her red hair shone under the fluorescent lighting, and the blade of her knife reflected it. She dropped their last opponent, without a shot fired. She gave him a one fingered salute. “Thanks for the help.”   


“I got them to open the door. You had it covered,” he laughed, “I love watching you work. You're magnificent.”

“Admit it, asshole, you've been the President's little bitch so long, you've gone soft.”

“It's been caviar and champagne, sweetheart.”

“Incoming!  Get the goddamn door shut.”

“Cover me.”

They answered the crack of gunfire with their own shots. “We've just been announced to the party, baby.”

Sparks flew as bullets rained on the reinforced door. Jensen shoved the door one last time and spun the lock to seal them in. He stood with his back to it and wiped his brow, “How much plastic d'ya reckon the door will take?”

“A few ounces, and that will take us out too.” Danni unpacked her hardware and stared at the screen of the main computer array, “You want to hope I can get the lock codes changed. This is all over the place.”

“They changed them after the riot.”

“I can do it.” Danni's reassurance was aimed at herself. Jensen knew better than to disturb her concentration. He placed himself for their best defense and waited. 


	11. Big Bang 2013: Have Hatred and Gravity Won - 10/19

  
  
Three, two, one…going dark,” The lights went out, dim emergency lighting flickered on, and a double explosion rocked the ranch.    


“We're good. Can you get visual back?” JD's voice, cut through the headset.

Danni's relief was obvious. “Working on it, Boss.”

Jensen was still stuck on the noise and impact of two rockets.  “Two,” he said, shocked.

“Pardon?”

“There were two rockets. I thought the diversion was one.”

“We had an opportunity. JD took it.”

“Where? What target?” Jensen couldn't keep the panic from his voice.

“South corner, the PR offices.”

Jensen let out the breath he'd been holding. Danni turned to look at him, “Problem?”

“Just, y'know, staff and slaves, in the living quarters.”

“Soft! You get too close?”

“No! Not into needless deaths.”

“Never seen you worry about it before,” Danni commented. She returned to tapping at the keyboard and scrolling screens. “That collar is sorta freaking me out. There are bolt cutters in the kit.”

“It can wait till we’re done. I'm used to it.”

“And the scar?”

“Jensen, put a finger to his face. “Yeah, well. Not much to be done about that.” 

Gray static cleared into focused pixels on a surveillance screen, “Lock-down achieved in target areas. Visual is coming back up,” Danni announced, then twisted her mic away from her face and sighed, “I'm brilliant,” she boasted. She picked out a set of bolt cutters, “C'mere!” She snipped with precision, taking care not to cut Jensen. The collar slid off, and he threw it to the floor. Danneel stroked his neck, where it had been. “How are you, honey? And don't give me your usual bullcrap.”

 

  
In Jared's dream there was noise and dust, recrimination and chaos. He looked over a devastated landscape, through gun smoke and hell-fire. At the edge of his vision, Jensen turned his back and walked away from him. Jared tried to follow, but he was frozen in place. Jensen turned to look at him, one last time, but the face that looked back wasn't his, “Not Jensen at all,” his father's image mouthed at him, before dissolving into gray ash that fluttered to the ground.   


The cold splash of water that woke Jared was very real. It made him catch his breath and shiver. His eyes blinked open, but closed again, with water dripping over them. He tried to reach a hand out, to make sense of it all, but it wasn't there. He was sitting on a hard chair and his hands were fixed firmly behind his back, making his arms ache and wrists hurt. When his eyes finally cleared, his vision was already graying at the edges, his breath came in short gasps, and he passed out.

Deja-vu. A deluge of icy water woke him again. He spluttered and choked, and kept his eyes closed. He didn't think his situation was something he wanted to acknowledge.

“Jared Tristan Padalecki. War Criminal. It has a ring to it, I think.”

Jared recognized the voice. His eyes flew open in shock. He searched his memory, for something, anything, that could explain the circumstances, but the last thing he remembered was dinner with Jensen.

“Oh, there you are. You wouldn't want to sleep through the excitement. It would be a shame.”

An empty desk and the impersonal gray of a guard-room swam into vision. A hand reached to touch his face and he jerked to one side. “Oh, and I was thinking you liked to touch. Or is it just slaves, huh?”

Jared lowered his face, letting his hair cover his eyes. A goon grabbed a handful of it and yanked his head up.

“Smile for the camera. It's worldwide coverage.”

It sounded bad. “Where's Pa?”

“Oh, that's sweet. Did you know, he hasn't asked about you once?”

“Liar,” Jared spat the word with defiance. The punch that split his lip was delivered with enough force to knock the chair, with Jared, onto the floor.  He looked up at his captor, with narrowed eyes and bloody lip, “Show that to your international audience.” The man might be a gangster as well as his father's political rival, but Jared knew Quintas liked to project a façade of respectability.

A goon righted the chair, and he was upright once more.

“Editing. It's a modern miracle. You're going to give a live confession. My guess is, you will be doing it very soon.”

“It's not legal without representation.”

“Aw. Seriously. I could package you up and call you sugar. I've got lists of lawyers, pick one.”

Jared shook his head in disgust.

“Not going to take me up on my offer? We'll record that as a 'no', then.”

Jared stared straight ahead and refused to make eye contact. He wasn't going to say another word.

Quintas turned his back to Jared, in a deliberate snub. “You can give me the silent treatment, but you might want to record a little goodbye for your Pa. The people want to see swift justice, and then I will regain civil order.”

Quintas signaled the guards to open the door. He looked back at Jared with a smirk, “It's nothing personal sweet-pea. I'm doing what is best for my people.”  

 

  
I'm sorry. I'm not hearing right. You want me to do what?” Misha tried the door handle of the next room. A two fingered flick saw them bursting in together, weapons ready. There wasn't much to search, just standard staff quarters with a bed, a closet, and a nightstand full of family photographs.   


“Clear.”

Misha changed tactics. “I'm guessing that Danni gave you the third degree.”

“You asked her to.”

“Man! She told you?”

“No. I just know you both too well.”

“See, there's our point, we don't know you at all.”

Another door, a similar room, “Clear.”

Misha looked exasperated. “Tell me something truthful about you, anything at all.”

Jensen fixed him with a steady green-eyed gaze, “My name isn't Ross.”

Misha glared at him, “I love you man, but I have a gun and you're pissing me off. Do you think Danni hasn't already turned over your stupidly thin file, Dean Winchester?”

“Yeah. No. Not Dean either.”

“Dude, do _you_ even know who you are?”

The question threw him off balance. He didn't know if he could answer it. He frowned. “I'm a kick-ass mercenary. You trust me, don't you?”

“ _Personal business_ is vague. At least give us a motive?”

“Revenge.” He touched Jared's mark on his cheek.

“Oh, right, because that's real healthy.” Misha was sarcastic, “Besides, you don't do that.”

“Do what?”

“Get involved. Not for something trivial. Now Danni - she’s different. Touch her face, and world war three would come screaming down on you, but you …. I've seen you bounce back from every deep cover you've taken, without a mark on your soul.” He paused and added, “If you even have a soul.”

“This time is different.”

“Give me something I can work with here, Ross.”

Jensen swallowed. He hated this, hated hiding, yet hated having to reveal the tiniest sliver of himself.

“It's about family, okay. It's for family.” He continued searching the closet.

“According to my buddy, Ross, he doesn't have family…Oh!” Misha slammed the door of the room, and turned to Jensen, “This _is you_ , isn't it? This is _really you_ , and it's why you were prepared to go to such an extreme for this mission. This is your roots, and JD was right to be worried, because it was personal from the very start.”

Jensen couldn't give a proper answer. He was so screwed. “I'm not going after Quintas. Nothing changes. Quintas has his man. Hell, he has his coup. We all get out. We all get our money. You and Danni get more.” Misha sighed in despair. Jensen grinned. His friend was suckered and he knew it.

“I don't want your money. One day you're going to give someone more _of you_ , and it's going to be okay.” Misha's soft tone surprised Jensen.

 

  
One hour. It was all his Pa's life was worth. An hour, in the main hall, under the blinding lights of a camera crew (and who planned a raid to include that?). They heard everything from Quintas and nothing from his Pa. _Guilty._ Quintas's rabble bayed for blood and they knew they were going to get it.  


Jared was sweating and sick. He was sure there were knives twisting in his stomach. Goons hauled him up, in his rope tied bounds, because his legs wouldn't hold him. He surveyed the mass of prisoners and 'witnesses', desperate for a glimpse of Jensen, but he wasn't there. A small voice nagged at him, that he'd been drugged, and why would Jensen have done it? He batted it away. He hoped Jensen had run, and was already far away and safe. The thought was his only comfort in the horror show that played out around him.

The room cleared quickly after the verdict. Suddenly, it was just Quintas, his goons, the camera crew, the President, and Jared.

Quintas stood in front of Jared, formal in his designer uniform, “You should take a moment, to say goodbye,” He made it sound generous, then shooed the sound man away, and added, “You'll be following soon enough. Too many at once, makes it look like a mob. Your father never did understand the importance of appearances.” He smoothed a hand over slick black hair and smirked. “Live TV! Make it emotional. Audiences love that.”

Jared’s pa was no longer massive to him. His arms no longer engulfed Jared. Jared buried his face into his father’s shoulder and remembered the times when the man had been huge and capable, swinging a young Jared in his arms, scooping him up with his teddy and giving a deep, happy laugh. Jared wasn't a child any longer, but he was just as helpless.

“I do love you, Jared. I'm sorry.” His father was crying, and it broke Jared. He couldn't help his sobs and the tears that streamed from his own eyes.

“I love you, Pa.”

Quintas's men dragged them apart. Jared watched his father march, with his head held high, through the exit. Jared struggled and shouted, until one of the goons used a taser to stun him.

 

  
Danni swished her headset in her hand, as the live broadcast flickered beside her. “I'm thinking diamonds, Ross. A big, fat, diamond bracelet.”  


“Tiffany's,” Jensen agreed, and they shook hands on it.

“Shit! Whatever you're going to do, I suggest you do it soon. Our client isn't wasting any time.” Misha watched the broadcast with fascination.

Jensen looked over his shoulder. “You're kidding?”

“No. Immediate execution.”

Jensen turned pale. He had no description for what he was feeling. It was loss but he couldn't define what he was losing, his last chance to make Jared suffer, or something less familiar. “The kid?” he asked.

“Not yet.”

Danni interrupted, “Best to get in there now. Lots of distraction. Besides, if this is how it's going down, it's going to get messy. JD will want to collect fast and get the hell out of Dodge.”

They watched as the first member of the ex-president's government was taken to a mark in one of the courtyards. His list of crimes was read-out, excruciatingly slowly, before a volley of shots echoed, and for him it was over.

“Quintas sure does like his dramatics. Do you think he's going to count down, like this, one by one, until Padalecki?” Misha wondered.

Jensen checked his weapons and grabbed his pack, “Hopefully,” he said, as he pressed Misha's assault rifle back into his hand, “C'mon.”

In his head, he played through the words he wanted to say, and the things he would do, before he left Jared to his inevitable execution. He had imagined it for years, and pictured it in detail, since the day he accepted this mission. He’d refined it while he washed Fin’s blood from Jared’s floor, and every time he looked at his own reflection in a mirror. He wasn’t sure whose reflection had looked back at him, but he did know that it wasn’t Jensen. Jensen had never been real.

 

 

  
Jared was tied to a chair again, with a wide desk in front of him. He had no doubt that the set-up was designed to intimidate him. He thought it was working. He could hear the live broadcast, on a TV outside his cell, and hear Quintas's men cheer the first hail of gunfire. He didn't know if it was worse to know what was happening, without seeing, or to have visual closure. He did know that he was a coward who feared his own death. His throat was dry, his eyes were red, and his nose dripped. He needed to pee, and he couldn't stop shaking.  


The chatter of the guards ceased suddenly, and Jared's eyes widened in fear as the cell door rattled open. Some sort of soldier, with short black hair and piercing blue eyes looked in at him. “Here,” he said to somebody, and the door opened wide.

“Give me five minutes,” somebody replied.

Jared's throat constricted. His heart hammered at an unnatural pace. The accent was American, but the voice …the voice was familiar. Surely there was no way it could be him? The door clanged shut, and Jared couldn't process what he was seeing. “J-jensen?” he stammered. “Oh my god, I thought….”

He stopped talking. The man approaching him had the physical appearance of Jensen. He was the right height, but he somehow seemed larger than Jensen had ever looked. His face was harsh, and his eyes glittered cruelly. He walked with the swagger and threat of a soldier, and he loomed over Jared dangerously. Jared looked up into the face and recognized his mark, JP, on his cheek. He breathed out, and almost smiled, “Jensen!”

Flat palms rested on the table, and the man flexed his arms. Muscles bulged under a flak jacket. “No, Jared. Not Jensen. Not Jensen at all.”

Jared blinked and shook his head, he couldn't understand. “You are Jensen,” he said.

The man continued to tower over him, with a mean smirk and shake of his head.

_Drugged._ Tears gathered in the corner of his eyes as he finally made connections. Jared retched, but there was nothing left to vomit. Words formed, but nothing came out right, “But you told me everything…your sister…”

The explanation, when it came, was coldly voiced. “Everything I told you about Jensen was true, except that he died. His sister committed suicide rather than let her brother face her debtors.  Her baby died with her. It was too late, the bid was already won, and when he lost his enthusiasm, his trainer pushed too hard. All of this is sad but routine in this nation, under your father's rule. We saw an opportunity.”

“I saw your face, when you told me. You cared.” Jared protested.

“Maybe I know what it feels like to lose family, to be an uncle at one moment, and to have it taken away in the next.”

“Who are you?”

“I'm the one who used your laptop to find a way into the security system. I'm the one who fucked you. I'm the one you let in, because you were so needy and insecure. Do you know who is responsible for your father's death?” Jensen tilted Jared's chin, to see his reaction, “ _Y_ _ou are,_ Jared. How dumb could you be, to think that I wanted you?”

Jared hadn't thought his world could crumble more, but there it was, tumbling into piles of ash, and he didn't think he could take it. He jerked his face from Jensen's touch and fought to keep his voice from trembling, “You were Quintas's man all along? You actually believe his shit?” This wasn't _his Jensen_. He wouldn't believe it. He couldn't believe it.

Jensen sat casually on the corner of the desk. He took a slim dagger from a sheath on his thigh, and turned it in his hand, letting the blade reflect the harsh light above them.  His silence was unnerving. Finally, he sucked a breath in and spoke, “I'm not Quintas's man. I don't believe anything he says, but the revolutionaries will destroy everything in their wake, until the nation has no assets or industry, and your father is a dishonorable liar. Money, on the other hand – money is straightforward.”

Hysteria bubbled in him and Jared laughed, “So, you fucked me for money, which makes you a whore.”

“A whore is more honest than a politician,” Jensen snapped with sudden ferocity, and the knife was right there, inches from Jared's face, and not stopping. “I didn't have to fuck you. I can do my job without it. I fucked you because I could. I fucked you because I wanted you to die rejected, alone and betrayed.”

Jared shut his eyes. He flinched away and struggled to escape his ties, but it was hopeless. His hands balled as he felt cold steel meet the tender flesh at the side of his mouth. He wanted to shout or cry, but he didn't dare, for fear of the consequences. There was movement, but he didn't feel the slice of skin. Every nerve ending tingled and thrilled as Jensen trailed the knife slowly across his cheek and over the rough stubble of his jaw, shaving hairs in its wake.

There was no wet trail of blood, and Jared forced himself to open his eyes, to try and find the Jensen he knew, in this dangerous mercenary. “If it’s only about the money, then why do you care about my death?” he grated through clenched teeth.

The sharp point of Jensen's dagger dug a tiny, stinging hole in the delicate skin behind Jared's ear as Jensen answered. “You had everything. A home, a family, and privileges, but it wasn't enough for you. You had to take more. I had a sister.You used her, fucked her, made her pregnant, and she wasn't upset. She wanted that baby. I would have been an uncle. She trusted you, and you betrayed them.”

“Oh, god! Sophie? You're Sophie's brother?”

Jensen moved closer. Jared could feel the exhalation of his breath, almost hear his heartbeat. The strong scent of him enveloped Jared. It felt intimate, and sense memory had him catching his breath. He needed to remind himself that this wasn't the real Jensen, and the peculiar jolt of lust he felt was not appropriate.

Fingers feathered over his neck, and the knife followed in their wake. Sharp, cold, slow and deliberate, it pressed against his skin with the promise of pain, but there was no blood. The honed blade continued downward, slicing buttons from his shirt, slashing the fabric of his tee-shirt, raising goose-bumps in its wake and making him shudder. At any moment, Jensen could turn the blade and push in. He could choose torture or death, and Jared wouldn't beg or complain, because Jensen was right, Jared deserved this. Fear and anticipation had his blood pumping and his nerves on edge.

Jensen caught his lip between his teeth, in concentration. He seemed to be in a daze. Jared followed his gaze down to where Jared’s cock strained against his pants, regardless of his brain insisting that this was not the time or place. Jared blushed with humiliation, but his words were defiant. “You turn me on. You always did. Why should I pretend? I can still feel, and that was what Sophie was all about. She wanted to experience everything, while she was alive. She wouldn't accept anything less from anyone around her, not me, not you, not anyone.”

The pressure of the blade increased. Jensen twisted the handle and it cut an inch into Jared's chest with a bloom of pain and ooze of blood. Jared inhaled and blew out slow. He looked up into Jensen's face, to meet his dispassionate stare. He wanted it to be over quickly, but the blade went no further. “You think I don't want this? I deserve it. So do you, because you abandoned Sophie a long time before I did. You trashed her ideal big brother, when you gave up all she believed in, and ran. This is when you come back? When it's too late?” He taunted Jensen, but the dagger remained still.

Jensen's hand was steady. His tongue darted out to lick his lips, and Jared wanted to groan at the sight of it. Jensen spoke as if in a dream, “I was with her, at the end. She couldn't contact you, but I picked up. I was there when you ran.”

“And I blamed myself. I wanted to scream and cry. I went to the commemoration service and had to play the 'official mourner', and it half killed me. You weren't there.”

“I honored her.”

“Did you? All I see is revenge, and it makes me think you didn't know her at all.” 

There was the warm trickle of blood on his chest as the blade withdrew. Jensen raised his arm with rippling muscles, and Jared braced himself and shut his eyes. He heard the clatter of metal on floor just before his head jarred back with the force of a well-aimed punch. The second hit crunched into his nose with an agonizing crack and spray of blood, and the third opened the puffy split on his lip and loosened a tooth. Jared’s stomach clenched against the fourth and he stopped counting.

 

 

  
Jensen was panting when he finally felt his rage subside. His fingers and face were splashed with Jared's blood. The kid was still alive, but he was a mess. His face was a mass of fresh bruises and vivid blood. Hair stuck to his face and dripped with sweat, tears, snot and more blood. He was still _fucking beautiful_.  


Jared opened his eyes with difficulty. The multi-hued orbs, were dim and watery. “I want _you_ to finish it.” There was no hope in the gasped plea, “Please.”

He stooped to pick up his blade, and Jared's blood-stained lips curled into a lopsided smile. He lifted the knife, watched Jared's neck stretch and elongate, as he tipped it back in submission, waiting for _Jensen_ , trusting him.

He had never been a trustworthy guy. What's to trust when you won't share your history, not even your name? Sophie had told him that once. He traced the knife up to Jared's battered cheekbone and sliced in. This time Jared screamed, but Jensen didn't stop until the initials JA were carved in flesh and blood, on his face. 

When he was done, he placed his knife on the desk with slow deliberation. He avoided looking at the pathetic, sobbing kid, tied to the chair in front of him. Revenge wasn’t supposed to feel like this. None of it had made him feel better. He was numb inside, maybe he always had been; perhaps he always would be. Except…there had been moments, with Jared, when he’d felt a spark of something, and he couldn't think about it right now, or he might lose his mind.

He didn't notice Misha until hands shook his shoulders. “Jesus Christ! You have to snap out of this. I heard the scream. What the fuck did you do, man?”

Jensen blinked. He looked at the scene objectively. It was bad, real bad.

Misha was panicking. “Oh, shit! Quintas can't use him like this. Our heads are gonna get jammed on a pole at the palace gate.”

“This isn't a palace, Misha. We agreed to deliver the President. The kid wasn't part of the deal.”

“You think that makes it okay? He's not going to let us just slip away after fucking up his sweet little PR campaign. Do you think JD is going to let this slide? Fuck, dude! What the hell happened? I mean, I know you're cold, but this…this…I don't understand.”

A volley of shots rang out from the live broadcast. Another cheer was heard, and a somber voice started to read out President Padalecki's crimes and sentence. Jensen cleaned his dagger and moved to put it back in his thigh sheath. Misha snatched it from him, and within seconds was sawing at Jared's ties. “Give him your jacket”

Jensen was confused, “Why?”

“He can't be found like this. So, he escaped.”

“What?”

“Just do it, Ross, or so help me, I will have Jared _kill you_ during his escape.”

It was like waking from a nightmare and everything was real again. Jensen fitted in smoothly with Misha, and Jared was nothing more than a rag-doll. Jared tried to help, but he was uncoordinated and unable to stand. They propped him between them to dress him. Jensen's jacket was already bloody, but Misha tore at it, to give the appearance additional merit. Jensen considered Jared's distinctive floppy hair. He pushed the kid back into the chair and rapidly hacked it short with his knife. Jared fought him, and Misha held him down.

They locked the cell door behind them, and carried Jared between them, like an injured comrade. A few of Quintas's men patrolled, but they were distracted by commentary of the executions. Misha turned his headset back on and altered the frequency. “Danni, how would you like a necklace to go with that diamond bracelet?”

“This sounds dangerous.”

“It's a cinch for you. Find us an exit, and if JD asks, it never happened.”

“What are you doing? No, don't tell me. Will JD kill me?”

“No, he'll kill us. You never did a thing.”

“Okay. When?”

“Now, Danni! Now.”

“Give me a few seconds. Where are you headed?”

“North East corridor, South turn, by room 112.”

“You want a diversion?”

“How did you know?” Misha grinned.

“Stands to reason. You planning on coming back?”

“Only Ross is going. I'm not leaving our red headed goddess alone and vulnerable. How's it looking out there?”

Danni was all business. “Mostly quiet. Quintas has roadblocks forming a cordon a few miles out. There's a crowd of 1K civilians creating a lot of noise, at the main gate,” she paused, “Take a right, keep going till the end. I'll unlock that exit for you, but it's interior. Hang a left by the tack room, hang another left opposite a door to the stables, then one hundred yards straight ahead is a fire door. It will be unlocked for five minutes. You better shake your asses.”

One goon challenged them. Misha showed a fake I.D. Jensen broke the man's neck with a single twist. Misha pushed Jensen out of the door, with Jared clinging to him. “Lose the kid somewhere he'll never be found.”

Just before the exit closed, and Jensen was on his own, Misha flung a cell phone at him. “If it's safe, you'll get the rendezvous details. If not…” he shrugged.

The door clunked shut, and Jensen found himself in hostile territory with Jared.

 


	12. Big Bang 2013: Have Hatred and Gravity Won - 11/19

 

  
Jensen surveyed the area beyond the exit. They were on a remote corner of the ranch. An ancient horse cart and an old army Jeep stood under camouflage netting, in an overgrown, stable yard. The truck would take him far enough, then it was a simple matter of disposing of Jared’s body and getting back before Quintas asked for a tally. Danneel's necklace was going to be a classy piece of work, if he made it back.   


Breaking into the truck was simple. He maneuvered Jared's semi-conscious body into the passenger seat, and hot-wired the ignition. There was a spark, but the engine didn't start, and he cursed. He tried again. It whirred and coughed, black smoke puffed from the exhaust. _Shit._ He wondered what the shortest route to the perimeter was, and how visible they would be.   
                                                                                                
Jared stirred and looked hazily around him, “There's a farm track, the trotters used to take. Truck might make it,” he mumbled through obscenely swollen lips. His head fell back against the vinyl headrest of the seat, and Jensen could see he was crying silent tears, “Sorry. I screw up everybody's life.” Jared mumbled. Jensen watched blood drip from his nose, and trickle over his lips, where he licked it away.

Gears crunched and Jensen revved the engine. He tried to ignore the twisting of his gut that had started with Jared's apology. If anyone had done enough to atone and change, it was Jared. He had asked to die, and Jensen knew whatever awful things he had done (and there were too many to list), he would never have the courage to face the penalty with such dignity. “Don't apologize to me,” was all that he said, and it sounded harsh, even to his own ears.

Wheels spun, and then they reversed rapidly, and were free of the courtyard. Jensen scanned their surroundings for evidence of a track, and found the merest hint of a dried mud trail leading through nearby woodland. He gunned it across open space, jostling and bumping over rough ground until they were between cover of trees.

A snuffle to his side reminded him how much this must be hurting his passenger. It crossed his mind to put him out of his misery, now that they were out of view, but he dismissed it, knowing that Jared would, quite literally, be dead weight to carry. If there was another reason, he chose to ignore it. Jensen steered carefully between two overgrown trees that dipped their branches, to bang on the roof of the Jeep.

“You're good at this. Sophie said you were the best. She wanted to be you. She never stopped believing in you.”

Jensen startled. Jared's speech was labored, yet still he attempted to engage Jensen. Jensen tightened his grip on the steering wheel and tried not to remember Sophie's disappointment, on the day he left.

Jared coughed before he spoke again. Droplets of his blood sprinkled the interior windshield. “This would have destroyed her.”

Would Jensen have taken the job if Sophie had lived? He wouldn't have known she was on the President's detail. Jensen liked to imagine he wouldn't have accepted the mission, but the black shadow on his soul begged to differ.

Gloomy forest gave way to dappled light, and a narrow country road lay ahead. Before it stood a gate, complete with checkpoint. “Oh, crap!” An overturned vehicle blazed at the center of a mob.

“Get down.” Jensen ordered. He considered turning the Jeep around, and digging a grave in the densest part of the compound wood, but he knew he wouldn't. From the moment Misha shoved them through the door, Jensen had known where he was going. He simply didn't understand _why_. Ten years was a long time. He prayed the establishment he was heading for was still in business. Jensen gunned the accelerator again, and hoped the truck would make it.

Jared bobbed his head up in horror, “You're going to kill someone.”

Jensen pushed him down and ducked behind the steering wheel, making sure to keep it straight, “Better them than us.” Rocks clunked on the windshield and roof, and bullets pinged. The Jeep gathered speed as it neared the road, running smooth on the checkpoint asphalt. The bright flicker of fire reflected into the car, but it passed with the thunk of a body against the hood, and a glimpse of legs tumbling through the air. They hit the gate with an almighty crack of breaking timber and the crash of folding metal. For a fraction of a moment, the front end of the Jeep halted as the back end continued. Tires left the surface and Jared was thrown sideways within his seat belt, to glance against Jensen with bruising force. He yelped in pain. Rubber burned, and Jensen concentrated on the muscle-wrenching effort of holding the Jeep in a controlled 360 spin until the last moment, when he fishtailed out of it, skidded onto the road and accelerated once again. He drove like a bat out of hell until the ranch perimeter disappeared from the rear view mirror. 

He forced himself to slow to the speed limit once they were clear. They had to get off the main route. His memories of the area were distant and unclear, but he had spent hours memorizing maps before his mission.

“Sophie would have done it anyway. You and me, we never could stop her.” Jared rallied again, slurring speech on fat lips.

“You don't know anything about me,” Jensen snapped.

Jared leaned against the headrest with a whimper of pain. “I know you're beating yourself up about not being there. She grew up, Jensen. She didn't accept that being in a female body meant she should be treated differently. She hated that sexist shit, and she cared, she really cared, about the ordinary people. I don't know if Pa chose her unit because of the baby, but I know he should have chosen it, because she was the best. She wouldn't accept any different. If she had the choice, it would have been the same outcome. Women and children die every day in this country, and it was her job to protect them. She was always soldier first and woman after that. If she had to die, she wanted her death to be in a cause, not for money, or while running away. If you can't see that, you didn't know her.”

Jensen braked and pulled over into a secluded area. He cut the engine, rested his forehead against the cool of the steering wheel and remembered to breathe slowly. Ross had an expiration date. Every member of JD's team did. Retirement was a pipe-dream; you went out on the job, or you went crazy, and it didn't matter because there was nobody to grieve you. Jensen thought that perhaps Ross had reached the end of the line, because what he was doing was crazy.

Jared's panic at coming to a halt was obvious. Clumsy hands clicked the seat belt off, and he reached for his door handle. Jensen rolled his eyes as Jared tumbled gracelessly to the gravel below. He let him have a few shambled steps head-start, before sliding across the seats, exiting on the same side, and tackling him to the ground. He straddled the long slim body, pinning Jared's arms to his sides. Jared looked away from his face. He didn't struggle. “So, this is it?” he asked, flatly, “Because, I really need to piss, and I don't want to, when…well, y'know. It's a humiliating last moment.”

It was ridiculous and sensible, and _so Jared._ Jensen thought he might laugh, but in the moment it was heart-wrenching. Jared was terrified, humiliated and in agony. Jensen had done that to him. He had built him up to be an arrogant, selfish monster and attributed evil to him that wasn't there. Jared was just a foolish, undisciplined teenager. He wondered how much of his own anger he had reflected back onto the kid.

Jensen had made Jared his baby boy and promised to keep him safe, and his betrayal of that promise tasted sour in his mouth. He wanted to kiss Jared, cradle him in his arms and reassure him, but he knew that he had broken every piece of trust and affection between them. He would take Jared to safety and leave him there, in the hope that one day he would heal. “I'm not going to kill you. I've got somewhere you can go.”

Jared looked wary, “My slave, Jensen, is missing. You don't exist, and you are the only person who knows I didn't kill Fin or Jensen. You aren't going to tell them I didn't do it, are you?”

“No.” Jensen shook his head, sadly.

“Then there is no place I won't be hunted down. You may as well finish me.” Jared slumped in defeat.

“There _is_ some place for somebody _like you_. C'mon, baby boy.” He helped Jared up, let him lean into him for support, and helped him with his zipper, so he could relieve himself. He half carried and half dragged him to the Jeep, where he rooted through his pack for first aid supplies. He was amazed that the kid had managed to get as far as he had. He washed his cuts and put a dressing over the carved mark on his cheek before drawing up a dose of morphine in a syringe.

“Why not kill me?” Jared frowned in confusion. He watched the needle and winced at the prick of its entry.

Jensen pressed the syringe plunger and then removed it delicately, and wiped the wound clean. “You're right about Sophie. You're right about me, and you should get a chance to build bridges one day.”

“Oh.” Jared sounded disappointed.

“What?”

“I was hoping it was because you loved me. I really am dumb aren't I?”

Jensen stroked Jared's ruined and sticky hair, the kid was starting to succumb to the morphine. “Not dumb, but you do have poor taste in men.”

“I know. I hate you so much.” Jared's eyes lost the fight to stay open.

There was an old blanket that covered the back seat. Jensen grabbed it and tucked it over Jared.

The Jeep coughed, spluttered and clanked but it started first time. Jensen eased it onto the highway, calculating a route as he drove.

 

  
Jared watched from the Volkswagen they had stolen at a service station. His nose throbbed, his head was hammering, and every part of him ached. He thought he was bleeding again. He wasn't sure how long they'd been on the road, but he remembered snippets of it. They had driven and hidden through the night. He remembered painful detours over bumpy farmland, and Jensen shooting soldiers at a checkpoint.   


If he ran, he wouldn't get far. Jared knew he was high on medication. His pain had receded to a manageable level and buildings swayed whenever he moved. It was therefore uncertain if his assessment of 'The Road House' was totally fair. It resembled a hotel, painted in muted colors, with a sturdy wooden door, but a light on the stoop glowed red. The sign above the door had a subtle montage of hearts, and a cheeky animė painting of a schoolgirl and schoolboy with fingers shushing their lips. The framed certificate by the door declared the business to be 'licensed and hygienic'. Jared thought it might be a brothel.

Nobody answered the front door, and Jensen battered it with his fist, to no avail. Eventually he gave up, and returned to the car. He opened the passenger-side door and put his arms around Jared, to help him out. “C'mon, baby boy, not letting you out of my sight.”

Jared staggered in his hold, through an alley, to a weathered side-door. Jensen banged loudly, stepped back and hollered up at grimy windows, “One of you worthless whores has to be awake.” It seemed needlessly antagonistic to Jared, but Jensen shushed him before he could protest.

Sure enough, there was the sound of deadbolts being unfastened, and the door opened just enough for the barrel of a gun to poke through. A woman spoke. “We're closed until three, and there are no appointments on the books, so you better take your drunk goddamn asses away, before we call the cops.”

Jensen grabbed the gun barrel and deflected it downwards. “It's an emergency. I need to speak to Madame Ferris.”

“Madame Ferris will not come to the door before noon. I suggest you call for an appointment.”

“I said, _it's urgent_.” Jensen kicked his foot into the opening to stop the door being slammed.

Heavy footsteps approached, and the door swung open to reveal a huge, well-built man in pajamas, shielding a slight brunette girl in a bathrobe, who held the rifle.

“Let me put this in words of one syllable, _get lost,_ ” growled the giant, squaring up to Jensen, but the girl took a second glance at Jared, before he moved to slam the door against Jensen's foot.

Jensen didn't back down. “I swear Madame will kick you to the street, and the whore will have last pickings if you don't tell her I'm here.”

The man flexed rock hard muscles, “Why should we believe you?”

Jared sensed Jensen's frustration, but the mercenary's tone remained calm, “Tell her it's China. Tell her I came back.”

The giant growled and curled his fist. The little brunette peered around her protector, to appraise Jensen. She tugged on the man's sleeve. “Wait, Clif! We should check. Let them in.”

“Are you mad?” Clif asked her.

“The boy looks half dead. I've heard Madame mention a China, from a long time ago, long enough for him to be this old.” She tucked the rifle down by her side and pushed Clif out of the way to make room for Jensen to carry Jared in.

“I am _not_ old,” sniped Jensen, as he passed the girl, and she giggled.

The room they were taken to was large and opulently decorated, with tastefully placed mirrors, candles and flowers. There were comfortable couches, giant armchairs and a chaise longue, but thick velvet curtains remained closed against the day. Jensen settled Jared to lie with his head on his lap, on a soft leather sofa. Clif offered coffee, and Jensen accepted a cup for himself and asked for water for Jared.

A clock ticked. Jared shut his eyes and let himself drift on the fog of morphine. It smelled nice here, like Jensen, lavender and laundry. Jared didn't think he had the energy to ask where they were, or what would happen to him. He didn't know if he cared.

 

  
Madame was older, of course, but still beautiful, and not a little formidable. Auburn hair, tinged with gray, cascaded over her shoulders, and her soft brown eyes were accented with crow's feet. She was dressed casually in jeans and her plaid shirt was unbuttoned just enough to hint at her cleavage.  


Jensen stood up straight and directed his gaze to the floor as she entered the room. “Madame Ferris,” he greeted humbly.

“You may look at me. I wish to see you properly.” She nodded to Clif, who opened the heavy curtains with a swish. Her elegantly manicured fingers reached to tilt his chin and she looked at Jensen, like a bug under a microscope. Soft fingertips brushed over the scar on his cheek, and she looked saddened at its ugliness. For the first time in years, Jensen felt vulnerable in another's presence. He stayed in place as the Madame perched on the couch by Jared, put a palm to his forehead to check his temperature, and stared hard at his injuries.

She spoke to Jensen. “Well, sit down, boy.” She produced a cigarette from a silver case, tapped it on the engraved metal and lit it with a dainty crystal lighter. She took a puff and offered one to Jensen.

“No. It's a disgusting habit.”

Madame Ferris smiled at his rejoinder, “I needed to be sure.” She waved Clif out of the room. “It took you ten years to pay a visit, China, and you bring me a boy as pale and shattered as you once were. I would say you're looking good, but you look like you've been at the center of an explosion, and you smell like you got dragged through a cow field.”

Jensen sniffed self-consciously and jumped up from the armchair he was in. “We hid in a barn, sorry.”

“Sit! We do have freshening products, China.”

Jensen perched on the edge of the chair.

Madame Ferris blew a smoke ring and eyed him thoughtfully, “ _Were you_ at the center of an explosion, boy? Should I expect the military at my door? Though God knows, I've lost track of whose army might knock. It's all the same to us. Equal opportunity fucking.”

“We weren't followed,” he confirmed.

“What do you want, China?” She got down to business.

“The boy needs medical attention; he needs somewhere to be …,”

“…someone else.” She finished his sentence for him. “You're giving me flashbacks. You were such a pretty young twink. Look at you, grown up and rough around the edges. Still, some of our clients go for that sort of thing.”

“Not me, just him.”

“It's going to be expensive.” She watched a curl of smoke dance in a ray of light, “Has he got money, or is this on you?”

“No, there's nothing. He's on his own.”

She looked at Jared again, ran a finger over his chest, and tilted her head at the sudden glimpse of shocked hazel eyes when she traced her other hand up the inside of his thigh. “Interesting. He isn't as young as you were, but he's young. Is he twenty one?”

“He's whatever age his papers say he is.”

Ferris gave a wry grin, “You know my terms. Does he know them?”

“He doesn't even know where he is, but he's all out of options.”

She stroked Jared's shoulder. “Poor baby. He could sell himself – but, oh, wait, he would need to confirm his identity. Did you know there was a coup? Quintas got fed up of waiting for an election. I hear Padalecki's son is unaccounted for.” She gave a dry chuckle. “Oh, what trouble are you bringing me, China?”

“It's difficult to know what to believe these days.”

“Hmm,” she mused. She flicked ash into a polished silver ashtray, “Josie came by a while back. I asked about you. She said you left the country, and that you were whoring again, in a whole different way. Seems you stopped caring, so, why do you care about the boy?”

Jensen opened his mouth to deny it, but she carried on, “So, you got older. I still know you like a mother. _Ten years_ , I don't see you, because you put us behind you and deny what you were. I can understand that. You found your feet, you moved on. It's natural progression, but then you're back. You're dressed as a soldier and acting like a lover, and you tell me that you're dumping this kid here, and he doesn't even know where _here_ is.”

“He can't come with me. I shouldn't have done this… _I did this_...he was a job, and it wasn't the plan. He's not got anywhere, or anyone.”

Jared shifted on the couch and moaned in pain.

Ferris's eyebrow quirked high. She stubbed her cigarette out in her ashtray, flipped her cell and dialed, with one finger outstretched to silence Jensen.

“Mandy? It's Sam Ferris over at the Road House. I need Doc Williams here as soon as he's done with morning surgery. Yeah, it's one of my boys, he got beaten bad. No, no, it's quiet here. He got caught up in one of those demonstrations. Thanks. We owe you one.” She gave a filthy laugh, “You know you can come by any evening and take me up on that favor. The good doctor sure does.” She snapped the phone closed, and pinned Jensen with a piercing stare. “You don't leave until your boy is coherent. I won't be accused of abduction.”

“I can't. I have a rendezvous.”

“Then he goes with you.”

Jensen could see by her stance that she was immoveable on the matter. He conceded to her. There had been no message from Misha or JD, and he knew that once Jared was settled, Ferris wouldn't abandon him, even if Jensen sneaked away.

“Clif!” Madame Ferris called her bouncer in, from just outside the door. “Be a doll and organize a room for these boys. China can sort out a shower and fresh clothing for himself, he knows his way around.” She looked at Jensen. “Only the décor and employees have changed.”

“Got to have them young, eh?”

“It's all about the bottom line. Customers like 'em young.”

Clif looked between Jensen and Jared, considering his order, “A working room or a personal room, ma'am?”

“Would I let anyone work in their condition, Clif?” She shook her head slowly, “Can't get the staff these days,” she muttered. “China, if you ever want a job on my security, you know you're welcome here.”

 

  
Someone came to see Jared. He was tall, black and rugged. He said he was a doctor but he didn't wear a white coat.   


Jared discovered he was naked under the sheets of a modest bed, when the man pulled back the soft cotton to probe at his wounds. He struggled to get away from his touch but found himself held firm in a strange woman's grip. He blushed and struggled harder, and the doctor laughed, deep and booming, “You'd think you had something to hide, boy. Settle down. I need to see what damage has been done.”

“It's been traumatic. He's bound to be sensitive,” the woman explained.

Jared tried to put the pieces of his memory together. He didn't know where he was or who these people were, but the bed was comfortable, and he wasn't in a cell. The room had pink daisy wall-paper, and the door had an interior bolt, rather than a lock. His lips were swollen and dried blood caked the splits together. He attempted to flex his mouth to talk, but it hurt too much.

The doctor talked over Jared, to the woman who held him. “There is probably some concussion, he certainly seems confused. If it continues, you should call me. His ribs are badly bruised, there could be a hairline crack but it should heal without help. The stab wound is shallow. He's lucky, there's no sign of internal bleeding. His nose is broken. I will tape it in place so it sets straight. I'll stitch the cut on his cheek, and the splits by his lip but the cheek will certainly scar, which is a pity in his profession. I'll make it as neat as possible and give you ointment to lessen the mark. Usually, I would recommend a hospital visit, but in the current chaos there have been bombings and flash mobs. It would be better to stay away. I'll give you some painkillers, morphine is a little extreme. Where did you get that anyway?”

The woman shrugged, “A friend of his gave it to him.” She let go of Jared's wrists and pulled the covers over him, tucking him in like a child.

“He's shocked and lost a lot of blood, so keep him warm and quiet. Build him up slowly, with good food and gentle exercise. He can return to light work when the bruising around his eyes starts to fade, but you'll need to keep the enthusiastic customers away from him for at least three weeks.” He wrote a script and gave it to the woman. “I haven't noticed him before. Under those bruises he's lovely, very foxy. I can't see the scar keeping customers away.” He stroked Jared's arm in a comforting gesture.

Jared wondered if he was dreaming, or maybe he had amnesia. The last thing he remembered was Jensen knocking on a door in a run-down alley, and now he had a job?

He was lucid enough not to protest when the stitches went in. The strange woman held his hand with a gentle squeeze, like his mother would have done, which seemed weird, but nice, and there was some sort of gel that numbed his skin. He squeezed his eyes shut and waited until it was over.

The woman saw the doctor out and returned to sit beside Jared. “Don't think too hard, we haven't met. The pretense was necessary. My name is Madame Ferris, and that is how you will address me. Here, it doesn't matter who you were, or what you've done. If you work hard and follow my rules, I will keep you safe. China will explain.

“Rules?” Jared whispered through barely-open lips.

“Mm-Hm, Baby Blue. They keep our world safe.”

_Who, or what, was China?_ Jared didn't know what to think, so he stopped trying. His bed was cozy. He went back to sleep. 


	13. Big Bang 2013: Have Hatred and Gravity Won - 12/19

 

  
The next time Jared woke, there was a petite young brunette, sitting next to him in a wicker chair, painting her nails. His mind found a vague memory of her in a bath robe, with a rifle. He remembered he was naked and quickly checked that he was covered.   


“Ooh, you're awake!” She was inexplicably excited. “So, I get to meet our new baby first. I'm Gem.” She blew on her nails and held up her hands for him to see. The nails were neatly painted with a shiny purple base and a silver glaze. “Crackle effect,” she said proudly. “It's awesome, isn't it?” She shuffled the chair forward, without using her hands, which Jared thought was quite a skill. “Your stitches are the neatest I've ever seen. Chad thought your name should be Scar, but the rest of us thought it was too _Disney._ Madame said you're our new baby boy, and you seem sad, so we decided on Baby Blue.”

Jared's confusion must have been obvious. She patted his arm. “It's one of the rules. Nobody here uses a real name, not ever. We don't talk about our past. We're a family so we all get to suggest a name, and then Madame chooses.”

Nothing was becoming clearer.

“For instance,” she continued, “I'm small and sparkly, so Madame named me Gem. China has fine features and pale skin, and he was broken, like you, when Madame found him.” Gem smiled prettily and flicked her long, shiny hair behind her ears. “None of us can go back to our old lives, so those names are gone. When we leave, we will have a new name and papers to match. If my earnings are good, I will have my papers in six months, but I have asked Madame if I can stay longer. I still look young, don't I?”

Jared nodded. Nothing she said made sense, but he could agree that she was young and pretty.

There was a knock at the door. Gem looked at the visitor, blushed and giggled. It looked a lot like a young girl seeing her crush. “Oh, hi China! I was just leaving.” She sashayed past him with an exaggerated swing of her hips.

“Hey there.” Jensen stood at the door with a mug in his hand.

He looked good in a button down and jeans. He wore no collar, but he looked like _Jared's Jensen_ , not like the vengeful soldier who had beaten him at the ranch. It didn't stop Jared from worrying about what would happen next. He didn't notice himself inching up the bed to get as far from the man as possible, or that he was curling in on himself, folding his body small under the covers. Jared forced his mouth to move, and it hurt, but he didn't taste fresh blood. “Is China your real name?”

“No.” Jensen leaned on the door frame. “It was one of my names. I've had a few.” He pointed at the wicker chair Gem had vacated, “Can I come in and sit with you?”

“I er, I don't know what's allowed. Where am I?” Jared's heart hammered, and he started to sweat. He couldn't help his fear.

“You're allowed to say no, but whatever happens I have to speak with you, and it would be better if it were in private. I can explain where you are.”

“What are you going to do to me?”

“Nothing. I promise. I won't hit you ever again. When I've told you everything, I'll leave, and you'll never see me again. These people, this place, it's a good place. You'll be treated fairly. You can start over, make friends.”He looked at Jared with wide eyes and chewed his lip.

Jared thought Jensen looked more nervous and lost, than even he felt. Jared waved to the chair, “Come in.” He was too weak to prevent Jensen from hurting him, even if he wanted to, and Jensen had asked permission, when he didn't have to.

“I brought you a peace offering.” Jensen showed him the mug. “Latte with caramel, and extra chocolate sprinkles, just how you like it. Here.” Jensen put the mug on the nightstand and grabbed a pillow from the end of the bed, “Let me help you sit up.”

Jensen's behavior confused Jared. “You're not my slave.”

“I know. I'm not a soldier, and I'm not your slave. Here and now, I'm just me, and I want to help.” He forced a twisted smile.

Jared flinched at the first touch of Jensen's fingers, and he saw the corners of Jensen's mouth turn down, but he continued making Jared comfortable, leaning him a little sideways, to relieve the pressure on his bruised ribs.

“How does that feel?” Jensen asked.

“Everything hurts, including breathing. S'okay though.”

Jensen put the mug to his lips and let him sip.

“S'heaven.” Jared declared, and he meant it. He hadn't realized how much he craved something more than water, and Jensen had perfected his coffee during his time at the ranch. Jared shut down the thought of the ranch almost immediately. He couldn't deal with those memories.

Jensen pulled an old photograph from his pocket and sat on the chair. “This is me when I was fourteen,” he said.

Jared reached to touch it and Jensen held it up. There were several youths and young adults smiling for the camera, dressed for a party, with beautifully styled hair and perfect make up.

“I'm in the middle, with the tight emo jeans and the eyeliner.”

Jensen was slim and delicate in the picture. He posed confidently in tight ripped black jeans and a tighter part-mesh shirt. His eyes were tinged with smoky eyeliner and his lips had a hint of gloss. His hair was blond and shaggy, with silky bangs.

Jensen laughed at Jared's face, “I was known as China back then, and China was a twink. The daddies loved that. It was a stage I grew out of.” He flexed his arm muscles to make his point.

Jared's heart missed a beat as Jensen’s arms flexed. He prepared for a blow, but it didn't come. He recovered his composure. “Daddies?”

Jensen ignored his query. He pointed to the young woman next to him, clearly a few years older than Jensen. “That is Josie, Sophie's mother. This is where we met. Behind us is Madame Ferris. Don't tell her she looks younger here. That bearded man at the back was one of our bouncers, Ty. In our spare time, he helped me to work out and taught me to fight. I could give you all their names, but it's not important.”

Jared's brow dipped, “I thought Sophie was your sister?”

“She was the only sister I knew. This here, is family. It's the only family I had. Maybe it wasn't blood, but she was my sister, she was tough and amazing, even as a child, and I loved her.”

“She was incredible.” Jared fiddled with a fingernail as he wondered how to express himself, “Look, Jensen. I wasn't in love with Sophie, but I did love her, and when she said she was pregnant, I wanted to do the right thing. I was going to do whatever she asked. She asked to carry on, in her job. I should have refused, I can see that now, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry you lost her. I'm sorry she had such a shitty deal at the end. I'm glad you were there for her, and I shouldn't have accused you of abandoning her.”

“You told your side of it. I think she would have decked both of us, and told us to shut up and stop fighting over her life, because it wasn't ours to decide.”

Jared huffed, “That would be her exactly. Don't make me laugh; it hurts.”

Jensen reached fingers to Jared's forehead, and stroked his untidy hair. Jared held his breath for a few seconds, but it didn't feel like a threat.

Jensen spoke sincerely, “I don't want you to hurt any more. I said and did a lot of things to you. I'm not sure if I was ever in love with you, but I know I cared. You aren't stupid, and I liked being with you. I didn't just have sex with you for the job. We had chemistry. You're sexy, and funny, and bright. I'm sorry I hurt you, but I don't regret being there. I got you out, and this new life may not be what you planned or wanted, but there's a second chance, and I know you're strong enough to get to the other side.”

There was some comfort in Jensen’s reply, if he could believe it, but Jared had to know more. “My father?”

Jensen's features hardened, “I'm not sorry about his death, but you didn't cause it. I would have found a weakness, with or without you.”

“What happens to you? Will you get paid?”

“Payday is screwed, and there's a hardass who's pissed with me. It ain't the end of the world. I'll get out of this rat-hole and start again. I'm good at that.”

“You told me it's safe here. You could stay.” Jared couldn't avoid the plea, despite what Jensen had done to him. Jensen was the only familiar thing that remained of his life.

"I'm not China any more, my money is worthless in Monkota, and I'm a wanted man. I don't want to lead anybody to you, or what was the point?”

Jared turned his face away. He didn't know why he hoped Jensen would stay, or why his heart was breaking, only that it was. “You're worried about money? You know you're an asshole, Jensen.”

“Yeah, well, mostly I kill people for a living. Sometimes I rescue them. I'm a _professional_ asshole.”

“I'll have my coffee now. I want to rest.”

“You need to know some more.” Jensen ruffled Jared's hair.

Jared jerked away from his touch, to bury his face in his pillow. He ignored the pain that flared at the contact with his cheek, and he ignored Jensen. He refused to cry. He felt Jensen's presence and his awkwardness, before he heard him leave the room. “I'll come back,” Jensen said, and the door clicked behind him. 

 

  
Jensen shut Jared's door. He scraped his hand over his face and wondered if the bar in the basement was open. Clif nodded a greeting as he perched on a bar stool, and the bar tender, Matt, served bourbon with chirpy conversation that faded once he established that Jensen wasn't a john. Matt went back to cleaning glasses in the corner of the bar and Jensen moped alone. How do you tell a teenager that you've sold their future? That you pimped them out for sex with strangers, because you're not capable of taking responsibility for them. He tried to convince himself that he'd survived this way, thrived even, but he wasn't certain of anything anymore.  


During the second bourbon, his cell phone beeped and vibrated. He turned it over curiously, to read the message on the bright screen; a map reference, and a time. He worked out the distance, and he could make it if he hauled ass. The question remained whether JD would sell him out to Quintas for Jared. If Jensen _really_ hauled ass then he could get there in advance of the meet and scope it out. He slid his glass over the counter with a tip, and beat it out of there to grab his pack, and his weapons.

Jensen paused by Jared's room. He put his pack on the floor in the hall, turned the handle and went in. The kid was sleeping. His damaged face was relaxed, and he looked peaceful. His right hand and foot dangled in the air, over the edge of the bed, and an empty medicine cup was on the nightstand by his coffee mug. Jensen took his hand, stroked the back of it, and whispered his name, but Jared didn't stir. He tucked Jared’s foot and hand back into the bed, and there was still no sign of him waking. He considered leaving a note, but he didn't know what to say. There were no words that would ever be adequate. He leaned over him, to breathe him in, one last time, gave him a kiss that barely touched the swollen, stitched lips, and walked away. He stole a Camaro, put his assault rifle on the seat next to him, and put his foot to the floor.

Jensen got to the rendezvous early enough to scope out JD scoping him out. Misha and Danneel were with him, but the rest of the team wasn’t present. It made him antsy. JD was a man of few words. He took Jensen in a one armed hug and spoke gruffly, “I didn't want the rest of the team involved if we had to rescue your stupid ass.”

Danneel smacked his cheek and berated him for being so foolish; then pulled him in for a hug, and Misha smacked him on his ass and called him an irresponsible dick. It was a good reunion.

An Executive Sikorsky swooped in to collect them. As rotors chopped through air above them, Jensen looked to JD, and then at Misha, “Where's our usual transport?”

JD slapped him on the back, a little too hard, and Jensen could see his trigger finger on his service pistol, “The self-appointed President Quintas was so impressed he sent his own.”

Danneel and Misha completed a triangle around him, and Jensen knew he was lost.

Danni couldn't look him in the eye. “Put your weapons down and get on the ground, Ross.”

He looked for an escape but didn't see one. He knelt to the ground and placed his pistol, his assault rifle and his dagger in the dirt by Danni's foot. Misha patted him down and took his flick knife from his sock, then bent his hands behind his back to be cuffed. The world went dark as a hood was placed over his head, ear muffs over that, and he was pushed, stumbling into the helicopter. He swore and cursed, but he had no way of knowing if his former colleagues were even there. He found a calm place in his mind, and tried to stay there, but his thoughts wandered to all the ways a person can be persuaded to part with their secrets, and then to Jared, betrayed by him, yet again.

They landed and he braced himself for some sort of action, but he was pushed up steps and into another seat. He felt the take off and guessed at a jet. The journey was interminable. Jensen knew that sense deprivation skewed sense of time, but this had to be _hours_. He asked to be taken to relieve himself and was surprised when someone guided him and uncuffed his hand to allow it. He supposed that nobody wanted to get the seating stained. His cuff was replaced and he waited once more. The time was definitely off, and he supposed they were toying with him. It was working. His dread built, and it was increasingly difficult to find his calm space. Finally, Jensen’s stomach felt the swoop and deceleration of landing, and he braced himself once more. He'd had time to think. He wasn't going to go under without a fight. If they killed him in the struggle, then he couldn't divulge Jared's location.

He was manhandled once more, pushed down steps, and came to a halt. He felt heat against his back and all around him just before the hood and ear muffs were removed. Bright sunshine assaulted his eyes and he blinked to adjust. To one side of him Misha dissolved into giggles and Danni cried tears of laughter.  Champagne fizzed like a tidal wave in the glass that JD held out to him, as it rocked with his guffaws. Danni was shaking so much it took her several minutes to unlock his cuffs. “Your face!” she managed to grate out, in the end.

“Welcome to Agadir,” chuckled Misha.

“I said, _don't let it get personal_ Ross. Don't ever screw up like that again, or next time that journey could be for real,” JD scolded.

“You fuckers!” Jensen grabbed the champagne from JD and drank it one gulp. They were assholes, but so was he.

“That is the best money I have ever spent,” JD was still laughing, “And you never got to appreciate the luxury of that damn Sikorsky or the private jet.”

“You paid all that to _prank me_!”

A chauffeur coughed tactfully and opened the door of a limousine. Danni took a swig from the champagne bottle and passed it around. She stepped in the limo daintily, “Hey, c'mon guys. I want to hit the souk.”

JD explained, “Quintas gave us a bonus for every member of Padalecki's government he took in the ranch. He pulled one of the most successful coups of all time, and we got out alive. I figured we deserved a holiday, and a few laughs. The others picked Hawaii, but Danni wanted somewhere more exotic. Morocco had the right weather, distance and villa at short notice.” He settled into his seat and explored the little bar.

“You didn't get a choice because you're an idiot,” Misha added, pulling Jensen into the car with them.

Jensen watched through the window as they passed through the city. Arid heat and bright sun lit rich blue skies and sea. There were white buildings, the yellows of desert sand and a whole palette of vibrant colors, smells and sounds. He thought of Jared in a quiet room with pink daisies on the wall, and the colors dulled around him.

 

  
Jensen didn't return that day, and Jared felt sick, lonely and scared. He shouldn't have ignored him. He knew it was his own fault. It always was. He let himself wallow in pain and self-pity.  


At some point Gem pulled Chad into his room, and he was introduced to the blue-eyed, spiky-haired blond and his snarky sense of humor. The pair were relaxed and chatty, despite the tight corset and short skirt Gem wore with spike-heeled shoes, and the equally tight corset that Chad wore with a short kilt and stockings. Chad bounced in kitten-heeled sandals, and grinned with bright glossed lips. He boasted that he had an appointment with a regular, who always tipped well, if the skirt was cheeky enough. He twirled to show off to Jared, and Jared caught a glimpse of black lace panties under the skirt, “Do you think it's cheeky enough?”

Jared's eyes widened, and he had to remember to shut his gaping mouth, “Yeah, it's cheeky.” If he needed confirmation that he was staying in a brothel, he supposed he had his evidence.

When sun shone through the window blinds the next morning, Jensen still hadn't been to see Jared, and the house was quiet. He eased his aching limbs from his bed and wrapped a sheet around him, to stumble to the bathroom across the corridor. There was no sign of anybody. According to Clif, Jensen was staying in the room two doors to the left. Jared shuffled to the door and listened, but he couldn't hear anything. He tried the handle and peeked inside. The bed hadn't been slept in. Stained and dusty combat clothes were neatly placed in the trash, and the rest of Jensen's belongings were gone. Jared left the room with a lump in his throat and a sick sensation in his stomach.

In the end it was Madame Ferris who came to him. She helped him sit up, then sat by his side to explain his situation. She was both soft-spoken mother figure, and hardhearted businesswoman. She showed him his ledger, an account of money owed for doctor's fees, bed, board, and a new identity. The total was shocking. He wanted to speak with Jensen, to find a solution with him, but she shook her head sadly, “I'm sorry honey, he's gone, and China, well, when he runs, he keeps on going.”

“He said he would come back. He told me he would.”

“Oh, Baby Blue, the boy says that every time. He started running at twelve years old, and he's still running that marathon.”

“He'll come back, he said he would.” Jared repeated himself.

Madame Ferris sucked on her cigarette, inhaled, then blew out, “I'm sure his mother believed that. I think Sophie did too. Josie couldn't make him stay, and I'm not sure how the army regarded him going awol. Not well, I would think. I'm certain he cares for you. He wouldn't have brought you here if he didn't, but the person he was yesterday, isn't necessarily the person he is today. Sometimes you have to let go and move on, kid.”

She gave him options. He could pay and leave, in safety, with his new identity. He could run with money owing, and she would have him pursued and imprisoned for the debt. He would take his chances at discovery. She gave him his last option with a friendly squeeze of his hand; he could work for her, as a legally employed prostitute, on controlled premises, and she would take what he owed, and his bed, board and bills from his earnings.

“I'm not twenty-one,” he argued. With his father gone, there was no access to his trust fund, even if he dared to use it, but he couldn't come to terms with the alternative.

“You're whatever age is on your papers. You're tall enough. This business competes with mob-controlled hookers and slave-sourced whores every day, and we have to have an edge. We're pricier than the rest, and we can do it because we cater to a certain sort of client. We have a family atmosphere and my boys and girls are healthy and certificated as legal. Our customers indulge in harmless sexual fantasies, in a secure, clean place, and they get to keep a clear conscience. Even if you ran and stayed undetected, how do you think you'll get by? You're going to get fucked whatever you do, Blue. You may as well do it in the comfort and protection of a decent business.”

“Is this Jensen’s revenge, for what I did to him? Does he hate me that much?”

“Oh, Sugar! Why so precious? You're being offered employment, a future, and a roof over your head. Do you think you are that much better than the rest of my staff? It would be best to remember that they regard themselves as professionals. There are many who would fight to take your place.”

Jared remembered Jensen's photograph. “Was China your whore?”

“Blue, nobody at The Roadhouse is a whore.” She stroked his hand. “Don't ever think like that. China was one of my boys, and he is family, as you all are.”

“He was fourteen, and you sold him for sex.” Jared was disgusted.

“I don't force anybody to stay. There are no collars, and no locks on your doors. I only ask that a debt be repaid. He understood that, and he was safe and happy here. I'm not a good person, Blue, but neither am I a monster. China came from the streets. He knew what true evil was, and he understood that customers bought time and entertainment with him, but they never bought _him._ ”

Madame gave him two days to think about it, and suggested that he explore the house and talk to the others. She left a pile of soft, casual clothes for him to wear.

Jared leaned back into feather pillows, and reflected on all the mistakes he'd made, in his meaningless, pathetic life. Karma's a bitch, and he felt the full impact of life without real choice. He saw Fin's willingness to please him with a new awareness. He had never asked Fin his age, the consent the boy gave had been contrived and worthless. Jared didn't like what that made him; a monster. He remembered the pills the doctor had left, grabbed the bottle from the nightstand and shook it. There might be enough.

A handful of bright capsules tumbled onto his palm. Like sweets, he thought. He bunched his hand and rolled them, studying their motion, but his mind pictured Sophie arguing with him. She was always an optimist and a fighter. Her mother, Josie, taught her that. His mind turned to Jensen's photograph, and he understood the significance of it. Josie got through this, even with a child, and if she hadn't, then Sophie wouldn't have been _Sophie._ He sighed, tipped all but two of the capsules back into the bottle, and took his usual dose with a gulp of water. Madame was right, he was no better than anybody in the house, and he deserved to be humbled. There might even be some redemption in it. Jensen was coming back. He said he would, and when he did, Jared would show him how much better he could be.

Jared lay stiffly on the bed, in the room with pink daisies on the wall and cried himself to sleep like a baby. _Baby Blue._

 


	14. Big Bang 2013: Have Hatred and Gravity Won - 13/19

  
Jensen drummed his fingers and glared at the small time criminal who approached the hard bench he was sat on. The man backed off. In the corner of their cell, a drunk spewed into a stained and leaking toilet. Jensen looked through steel bars at a clock on the wall and inwardly cursed. He couldn't imagine what was taking so long. This particular favor was going to put him more than even with Danni.

An officer came to release Jensen into Misha's care, just after dawn. He signed a form, and his belongings were returned to him. Misha kept a straight face until they were through the doors of the police station and onto the sidewalk. “Dude, you were epic,” Misha laughed. “ _Save me, oh, save me mister police chief, save me from this crude, drunken lout._ ” He mimicked distress with a hand to his brow. “How could anyone not rescue the damsel in distress?”

“And then fuck her into the mattress, table, wall …well, whatever was handy knowing Danneel.”

Misha tutted in fake disapproval. “And him a married man too.”

“Hunky though,” Jensen added, licking his lips.

“Yet you didn't hit on him?” Misha raised his eyebrows at Jensen. “We're on holiday, man and you haven't hit up a single dude. Did your dick get chopped off, or something?”

“Or something,” Jensen replied, before he changed the subject, “I need a shower and some sleep. When Danni finally does the walk of shame, tell her she's buying lunch.”

***

  
A parasol shaded them from the fierce heat of the sun, at the table of an outdoor cafe. Misha pushed his sunglasses high on his head and settled back in a chair while children dashed by, and tourists strolled past. A cat lurked by the table, begging for food, and JD scritched its ears. Jensen sipped thick, black coffee and watched it all, while Danni scrutinized tourist pamphlets for their next excursion. It should have been heaven, but Jensen felt alone and empty.

On the table next to them, an elderly English couple sat for a rest. They leaned in to each other and chatted animatedly about riding camels, and the view from the Kasbah. He overheard snippets about vacations in Tenerife, Rome and Bangkok, and he eyed their affectionate touches with a sense of longing. They were comfortable with each other, and comfortable in their own skins.

“Ross!” JD kicked his chair. “You awake in there? Danni wanted to know what you thought of the Atlas Mountains.”

“They're tall and made of rock.”

“I'm booked up,” Misha said between slurps of weak beer, “I joined the local knitting circle. We're going to dye our own yarn.”

JD groaned, “I'll pass. It's too much like exercise for me.”

“Don't call me Ross.” Jensen blurted out unexpectedly, even to himself.

His friends stared at him, and even the old couple turned to look. He put his coffee cup down, and shrugged, “It's a rubbish name,” he said, lamely.

“Is there something you want to share?” JD asked, with concern evident in his expression. JD had looked at him like that a lot over the ten days they'd been in Morocco.

“No, sorry, that was stupid.” Jensen was glad he was wearing shades.

“Any particular name you prefer?” JD wondered.

“Just forget it, okay.”

“Prickly,” commented Danni. “We should find you some locals to kill. Hang on…” she rooted through her leaflets, “I've got it. Hours spent relaxing, interspersed with bashing brains out and gutting things.”

The old couple looked over at them again. Misha gave them a wide scary grin, and they hurriedly looked away.

“A fishing trip,” she clarified.

“Huh?” Jensen was suddenly engulfed in memories. He recalled joyful laughter by a lake in cold rain, and the warmth of a guiding hand on his arm. His cup went crashing to the table with a spreading black stain, and he stood. He pushed his chair back and walked away. Misha got up to follow him, and JD pulled him back. “Give him space.”

Jensen wandered, without knowing where he was heading. He watched tourists buying postcards, writing short greetings to friends and relatives and posting them. He browsed souvenirs that families bought for grandma at home, the neighbor looking after the cat, and work mates. In the end he picked up a cheesy card of the Kasbah and paid for it in coins. He stared at its neat lines for a message and address, and then stuffed it in his pocket. He checked his bank accounts and walked back to the villa they were renting.

When JD, Danni and Misha returned to their villa, Jensen was gone, his room cleared. A toy camel rested on Misha's bed, a bottle of Jack Daniels was on JD's nightstand and a banker's draft was under Danneel's pillow. Jensen’s cellphone was on the kitchen work top.

 

On the second Friday after Jensen abandoned Jared, Gem slipped in to Jared's room to help him get ready.

His hands were soft, and his nails were manicured. His hair was colored auburn and restyled, shorter but still mussed. It made him look younger. He guessed that was the idea. He slipped on the suit and starched shirt, made sure the collar was straight, and Gem fixed his tie. She showed him how to apply a little foundation and just a shade of kohl and tinted lip-gloss. His bruises were still evident in black, greens and yellows, and his cuts were defined by stitch marks, but the swelling was gone and he could see the difference. It still hurt to move, but Tylenol dulled his physical pain.

In the last week, Madame Ferris had kept him busy with gentle tasks, at the back of house. He learned to answer telephones and use the appointment diaries. There was a schedule to make meals, send working clothes to the laundry, and tidy, and he shadowed others until he knew each task. For the last two days, he had been assigned to Clif during the evening, to watch the halls outside the working rooms for trouble, or to replenish stocks as necessary. He didn't think they really needed him. He was aware it was probably to let him see the business rooms, and the things he would be doing for the clients who visited the Road House. It simultaneously fascinated and terrified him.

Friday and Saturday were busiest evenings. Customers used the bar or social areas to mingle and meet the 'children', and they could take their time to choose from the Road House 'menu'.  Friday was therefore the day when Madame decided Baby Blue should be introduced to life at front of the house, as a greeter and general helper for Clif, and Matt, their barman.

Gem pulled Jared along by his hand, and they peered around the staff door to the guest area. Madame Ferris sat in a brocade covered chair, beautifully dressed in a slip dress and stiletto shoes. Her hair was in a soft bun. She was a formidable sight, and unmistakably in charge. She smiled when she saw them, and beckoned them forward. “Come in.” They stood up, with their backs straight and eyes to the floor, for her to inspect them. “Oh, now, what a beautiful pair you make, and perfectly on time.”  She pulled at Gem's tight white school blouse until more of her cleavage and blue lacy bra showed. Gem’s kilt was short enough to tease with the sight of white cotton panties, and her over-knee socks and flat shoes completed the costume.  “I think you should read school books over by the Tiffany lamp. It will make your hair glow,” Madame told Gem.

Chad, and Mouse, the girl who had a room next to Jared, stepped in together, looking like a porn version of Hansel and Gretel, in cute, tight lederhosen.

The remaining residents of the house, Bunny and Mia were immediately after, in silk and lace baby-doll sets, their hair in plaits, and holding a soft toy each.

Jared waited to be dismissed, until all the others had been inspected, and when she was through, Madame Ferris returned to him. She cupped his chin and caressed his neck and he didn't pull away. “Such a good boy. Look at me. Tell me the rules you'll be following this evening.”

“I am not for sale today, so I will not flirt with the customers.   
Customers are not allowed to grope me or handle the goods before they buy. If it happens to me, or I see it happen to any of my co-workers, I will tell Matt or Clif, quietly and promptly.”

She nodded encouragement, “You can tell me too. Carry on.”

He took a deep breath to steady his nerves, “I will keep the area clean, tidy and safe. I will not engage customers in conversation unless they talk to me first. Political debate is not permitted in the house.  
The door must be answered promptly and customers greeted warmly. No weapons or narcotics are permitted in the house. If I suspect a customer has any, I must signal Clif immediately.   
I will tactfully delay showing a customer off the premises until I have confirmation that all is well and any extras have been paid.   
I will not interfere in the activity between a customer and a co-worker. If I suspect that there is a problem I will tell, Clif, Matt, or my Madame.”

“Very good, and what about you personally?”

Jared blushed, “I am not permitted to touch myself or have an erection. If I feel it may be a problem then I must report to you, to have a cock cage fitted.”

“So pretty, when you're shy. Do you think it will be a problem? We could get Chad to help before it gets busy.”

Jared didn't think he could be any more embarrassed, “No, Ma'am, I don't think I will have a problem.”

The buzzer for the front door sounded, and Madame Ferris patted his ass. “Well then, first customer. Run along Blue.”

***

  
Mouse sat on the lap of a middle-aged businessman. She twirled her hair in her fingers and tittered at his jokes. It was nothing like her usual raucous laugh. Jared picked up glasses from their table, and wiped the surface. It was past eleven o'clock and he was weary. His bruised ribs screeched a complaint every time he moved, and his lip scabs were stretched and dry.

“Does daddy want another drinkie?” Mouse lisped.

Jared closed his eyes and counted to five. The first time he had heard the endearment, from Bunny's lips, he had frozen and dropped the glass he was holding. He was lucky, it was empty, and the fall had been cushioned by thick carpet. Jensen's face had come to mind, and he'd wondered why the mercenary had called him _baby boy_ , that first time. He thought he knew the answer, and it made his skin crawl with humiliation. Jared had been nothing more than a whore and a job to Jensen, and Jared had fallen for it all. Madame had taken Jared one side, to regain his composure, and to remind him that breakages were added to his ledger. Now, after eight hours of hearing every variation of daddy, sir and master, Jared was almost used to it.

Mouse's customer was fondling her tits. He squeezed them hard, and she gave a squeaky gasp as he spoke, “You want to bleed daddy dry, don't you?”

She wasn't distressed. Her lips parted slightly and she leaned her head back on her client’s shoulder, as she ground down on his lap, Jared was rapidly learning that the drinks they sold had a mark-up that made them every bit as profitable as the girls and boys. The customers resented it, but they could still be persuaded to part with more cash with a tease and fluttering eyelashes.

The man looked up for a moment and eyed Jared's name badge, “I'll have a beer. My little girl will have some lemonade, with a straw.”

Mouse cuddled in to him, with her head on his shoulder, she kissed his neck, “Thank you, daddy.”

He kissed her back and smiled, “I bet you want your little friend Blue to have something.” He leered at Jared, undressing him with his eyes, “Have a soda on me, Blue.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“You would make a pretty play-date for my Mouse, another day. Would you like that, Mouse? Shall I ask Madame.”

Mouse wriggled on his lap to express her excitement. “Oh, yes, yes, daddy.” 

Jared tried to look enthusiastic, damping down his horror. He hadn't considered the possibility that he would be required to have sex with his co-workers. They were becoming friends, and it felt wrong. He nodded an acknowledgment and hurried back to the bar, to place the order.

Matt set up a tray for the drinks. Presentation matched price. Jared had to admit that Madame Ferris kept her house classy. It was more like a gentleman's club than a street bar. There was nothing seedy or dangerous about the atmosphere, aside from the whole, losing what virtue remained thing. There was one altercation during the evening, between two men, vying for Bunny's next appointment, Clif had broken it up easily, and Madame  had sternly warned the customers not to upset her 'children'.

“Sit. Take a break, you look shattered,” Matt told Jared.

“I'm not exactly working like the others.”

Matt poured lemonade onto crushed ice. “You've been run off your feet, and you're still recovering. Take a moment.”

Jared plopped down on a bar stool, gratefully. He liked Matt. He was slightly older than everyone in the house, good looking and fit, but still lean. He treated everyone with respect, was calm and professional behind the bar, and kept a friendly eye on all of Madame's 'children'. 

Jared watched him work. “Can I ask you something?”

Matt laughed, “I wondered what was taking you so long. Fire away.”

“Were you one of Madame's children?”

He shook his head, but he didn't seem offended, “No. I've always worked a bar. I managed one a few streets away, with a fancy restaurant, but the customers treated everyone like shit, and every weekend was a series of brawls. Madame offered me a job here, and it seemed like a safer option. It is. I can keep it clean and have decent conversation, and nobody throws bar stools at anyone else. I don't ever fuck the customers, if that's what you're asking.”

Jared dipped his head, Matt was perceptive.

Matt continued, “I'm not disgusted by anything that happens here. I don't think you are bad, or dirty or wrong. It's a job. I know you're curious about that too. It's sex and role-play.” He shrugged. “So, there's payment. I've seen worse where there's no money changing hands. You're professionals and tax payers, the same as me, and you make people happy, in a healthy, admittedly kinky way. Hell, what I serve causes liver disease and anger issues. What does that make me?”

It made Jared smile. He hadn't considered it like that.

Matt pushed a Pepsi to Jared and picked up the tray. “I'll take this to Mouse. Watch out, Katie and Gem are heading your way.”

Jared looked across the room. He avoided catching the eye of the old man opposite, who drank his beer with a content look on his face. The table in front of him was draped with a cloth, and Jared was painfully aware that under it, Chad was kneeling, and had been for the last three hours. Gem had given his story in hushed tones and now Jared knew that the guy, Lou, had been a regular since Madame Ferris worked the house. Old age meant he could no longer get it up, so he liked to settle in his favorite chair, to watch others, read his newspaper, and have his limp cock warmed by a sweet young, naked thing, who he would pet through the evening. That he tipped generously didn't alter the queasiness Jared felt, knowing that he would be the boy under the table one day soon.

Gem's make-up was refeshed, and she wore a clean pink bra under a fresh blouse. She rubbed her ass and stood by Jared, careful not to appear to be drinking at the bar. “The goddamn ruler stings more than the cane,” she complained.

Katie grimaced, “At least you didn't have to lasso the cowboy, as you rode the steer.  My guy had no stamina.”

Jared tried not to choke on his drink. Katie had a knack of making him laugh and it hurt his chest, but it made his evening easier. He'd been surprised when she walked in, tall and confident, in tight black leather. Several similar women had settled in the bar over the course of the evening, and he found out that Madame didn't employ them, but on busy evenings, she rented time and space to a few select professionals, to offer variety for customers and passing trade. Whatever his fears about being a rent-boy, Jared was impressed with Madame Ferris's business.

Their Madame headed for the bar with a purposeful expression. Gem and Katie scattered back into the guest area, and Jared slipped off his stool in a hurry, mortified to be found slacking, with a drink in his hand.

“Ah, there you are Blue.” Her observant eyes raked over him. “Matt's right, you look exhausted, and that won't do.” She grabbed his soda from the bar, and put it in his hand. Take off, get some soup and a sandwich from the kitchen, it's all prepared and waiting. Then shower, and go to bed. No chores in the morning, I don't want to see you up until midday. It will be another busy night tomorrow.”

Jared looked at the others still working, and shook his head, he'd failed on his first day. “I'm fine. I don't want to let you down.”

Madame replied sharply, “I wasn't giving you a choice, boy. How do you think it looks to our customers or to an inspector if one calls? You already have bruises.” She smoothed a hand over his shoulder and softened her tone as she continued speaking, “You've done very well, Blue. Everyone loves you. I've had a lot of inquiries for when you're better. I actually think your injuries have sparked more interest; our daddies want to care for you. You have appointments in your diary and a bidding war for your first night. That will help to reduce your ledger, won't it?”

Jared obeyed with a weary nod. He didn't taste his Supper, and a hot shower couldn't get him clean. He was grateful for his exhaustion because it allowed his eyes to close despite the anxiety that welled in him. He didn't want this life, but he didn't have a choice. Jensen should have left him for the firing squad.

 

Jensen bought a postcard of modern art, for a few dihrams, in a gallery in Marrakech. He didn't understand most of what was displayed, but something about the shade and energy of the painting, reminded him of Jared. A French lady admired his taste and they had coffee together, on a crafted wooden bench, surrounded by colorful canvases. She told him about her divorce, and invited him to her hotel room. He let her down gently, describing all the ways that the vibrancy and strength in the painting reflected somebody he knew. She patted his knee and told him his boyfriend was a lucky man.

He walked toward the riad where he planned to stay, through narrow alleys, between crumbling buildings. Girls offered company, and when he passed by without a glance, boys took their place. There was such a beautiful choice. In the past, he would have chosen one, or four, and wasted most of the night rutting and sweaty with a stranger.

Jensen only paused when a boy, with olive skin, and sinful eyes, enticed him into a cafe with promises of kif. Jensen paid Sami for the night, and shared a hookah. As he relaxed, he ran his mouth for hours with the awful things he had done, the wonderful things he had seen, and every detail of Jared. Sami giggled and encouraged him, but he didn't understand, or speak any English. Jensen floated on a high and didn't stop to wonder that this was the first time he had ever spoken of any of it. He took out his postcard and showed Sami the colors. They floated and swirled and surrounded him with warmth. Jensen decided he was better like this, drifting with the flotsam and jetsam of life, meeting people who lived with passion. No guns, no grenades, just love. Later, they lay on the roof of the cafe, under a midnight blue sky just staring at the shimmering moon, and constellations of crystal stars. Jensen thought he would visit Madrid next.

In Madrid, Jensen went to a bullfight, but he left before it was over. He wandered the streets, taking in architecture, and watching people pass by. He went to the central mosque, removed his sunglasses and shoes, and sat in contemplation with men who came to talk and pray. The next day he stopped at an ornate catholic church. He stepped into the cool, genuflected to the altar, and continued to the confessional booth. He waited for a priest to come, slid the window, and made the sign of the cross, “Forgive me father for I have sinned…” He let old sins and new tumble from his lips. He spewed them into the dark space, letting the priest take them to his Catholic god. He didn't think it mattered if the priest understood his language, only that his god did.

In Paris, Jensen took pictures for three couples at the top of the Eiffel Tower. He shared dinner in a park with a vagrant, and purchased a postcard of Notre Dame for a few Euros. He stopped by a synagogue and spoke with the rabbi, in schoolboy French. He lit four Yarzeit Candles, one for Sophie, one in memory of all the people he had killed, one for a twelve year old boy called Alec, and another for Alec's father, who died on the day that Jared was born. Jensen walked in the rain without a coat or umbrella. He felt it freshen his skin, and decided that he wanted to dance in the rain in London.

 

 


	15. Big Bang 2013: Have Hatred and Gravity Won - 14/19

 

I think you need to suck on a soother, little one.” Pot-belly beckoned Jared, and he crawled, like a good boy. Someone behind him laughed. Jared ignored it. A few hours, that was all, and nothing he wasn't used to. The group was work-sweaty but not unclean, and most of them seemed more respectful than Pot-belly and his sidekick, Long-nose. Jared whimpered like a baby before obediently opening his mouth, for the short, thick cock, that was pushed between his lips. He made sure his teeth were covered and suckled loudly, giving a content sounding sigh and dribbling copiously over the dick, so saliva slid to Pot-belly's balls. He was paid to play a role and damned if he wouldn't do it.  


“Oh you sloppy, dirty, child,” the man reacted to the dribble with a tug of hair that pulled Jared up with a whine, until his mouth barely grazed the slitted tip. “Lick up your mess, boy, or I'll smack your ass.”

Jared was concerned that the rest of the group was holding back, so he wriggled his bare backside invitingly, while he licked the length of Pot-belly's dick. He dived further and wrapped his tongue around the man's balls, sucking his own saliva off, mimicking the enthusiasm of a small boy with a lollipop.

Pot-belly wasn't going to last long. Jared suspected that the group's celebratory booking to the Road House was probably his idea, and the result of a long held, but not explored, fascination. No doubt he needed an excuse to visit, and wasn't brave enough on his own. His colleagues, who had been tipsy and loud when they arrived, were suddenly reserved and doubtful when left alone in a large nursery-style room, to gang-bang the lanky, now naked boy, wearing only a large toddler harness and a cock ring. Jared wondered if any of them were even gay. However, Jared was the party favor, and he needed to get the party started. He wriggled his whole body, and his ass shook again. Somebody groaned, and another whispered, “That's just wrong.”

He felt the first smack with the sharp sting of an open palm. He allowed it to rock him into Pot-belly, encasing his dick in his mouth, letting it slide to the back of his throat before rocking back till he was just suckling the tip again, flicking his tongue against the bubble of the condom. Pot-belly groaned and his cock twitched, “Oh, yes, little boy needs to be taught. He needs a good spanking.”

A second, third and fourth smack rained hard on Jared's ass, rocking him to and fro, and he knew it would be wine-red with hand prints. He heard the sound of zippers and then there were fingers groping and stroking his inner thighs, cupping his balls and rolling them. It was progress, and he was grateful for the cock ring. Between the sweet, pleasure-pain of being spanked, the anticipation of being well and truly fucked, and the stimulation of his sacs, he was already hard and wanting.

Another three harsh slaps and Pot-belly came with a high-pitched squeal, his fingers tugging painfully at Jared's hair. “Oh, fuck, so sweet, you gotta try him. He's a little cock-slut.”

Long-nose had his cock in his hand, beating-off by the side of them. He tugged at Jared's reins, so the harness dug into his chest. “Shall we teach you the words?” 

Jared nodded, “Coke-slub,” he lisped.

“Jesus, skip the baby-shit, Dave, I bet his ass is tight. Can we fuck him already?”

Privately, Jared thought that whoever called 'Dave' out was right. They paid a premium for the age-play but if they weren't all comfortable with it, then it would be better to skip it. 

“I found toys to play with,” someone said triumphantly. They had explored the room and found the wooden box with the teddy engraved on it. Jared sent up a little prayer of thanks. “I bet little Blue likes Daddy's friends to play with his toys?”

Jared smiled, “Blue, like to play toys.”

He felt another smack on his ass. His flesh was warm with blood that rushed to the surface and the ache was delicious.

“Blue can suck me off first,” declared Long-nose.

Pot-belly smirked and pinched one of Jared's nipples brutally, causing him to gasp, “Sounds like a plan.”

Behind him, two of the party teamed up. They swatted his ass cheeks in turn, creating a rhythm that steadily increased the pain of the punishment, and sent him rocking onto Long-nose's proportionally long dick. He adjusted, best he could, to the rapid pace and deep-throating, despite his hands being unavailable on all fours. It didn't take many thrusts before there was drawn out grunt and the man was shooting his load, into a condom, while buried deep. Jared breathed slowly through his nose. He had learned to cope with the burning intrusion of having his throat fucked, but he hated the sensation of limited air. As one cock was softening and being pulled from his mouth, arms wound around his waist and hoisted him, back to chest with one of the men behind him. His ass came into contact with the fabric of a suit and he hissed in pain. He found himself sat on the lap of a man on the huge nursing chair. Jared was seated with his legs splayed wide over firm thighs, and he let his head rest back on the man's shoulder, displaying his neck. An erect cock poked at him through the pants fabric. Lips kissed his neck, and fingers played with his nipples. The other four men crowded around them, with cries of 'selfish,' and 'unfair.”

“I think we're being rude,” the man whose lap he sat on, spoke smoothly. He stroked Jared's flat belly, and fingers explored his navel and the dents of his hips, as hands roamed. “Blue doesn't know our names.”

Jared squirmed on his lap, grinding against him, _hallelujah_ , one of them had manners. He whimpered and moaned as his ear was sucked and nibbled, and one by one, the five men who were going to fuck him, were introduced. It didn't take long. Within moments he was manhandled again, bent over the conveniently sturdy changing table, with hands pulling his ass cheeks apart. A dildo was pressed through the well-lubed furled muscle, opening him up and displaying him for everyone to see. They twisted and turned it, pushed it deep and pulled it out, before they lost interest and put it away. Jared felt the nudge of warm flesh at his hole and he was breached in moments, cock plunging into him, brushing his prostate with a jolt of nerve tingling excitement. He bucked back against it, chasing an orgasm he couldn't have, with the cock ring on. He was fucked deep and hard, and when he was offered a dick at his lips he suckled it down, spit roasted to the cheers of the rest of the group.

They took it in turns to fuck him, interspersed it with the humiliation of dragging him around by his reins, having him suck juice from a toddler cup, and jigging him on their laps, while they fondled every part of him. They admired his eager erection and full balls and denied his pleas to be able to come. Jared was sweat-slick and tearful, he writhed and moaned, begged and cried for release as they played with him. He crawled between them, in a game of Simon Says that had him sucking or licking them as they shouted out, and when he got it wrong, he was corrected with more smacks, or a clamp on his nipple or balls that swung with a heavy weight for the next round of the game. It didn't decrease his arousal, He was in agony, and he needed to come, but Pot-belly was delighted with the prospect of Blue's blue-balls.

When the evening was over, the room stank of sex, sweat and latex and he could hear their harsh breaths. Jared was fucked out, with his hole puffed and raw, panting through his need for release. Deft fingers finally released his cock ring and he was told to jerk himself off while they watched. He spread his legs wide, and made sure he gave them a final show, fisting his cock hard and coming with a scream over his chest and belly, before dipping a thumb through the thick fluid, putting it to his mouth, and sucking on it, with a curled, childish hand. He collapsed into the comfort of the cot-sided bed and directed them to the showers. They dressed and left with mumbled thanks and a tip from three of them. Jared thanked them in return, and called Madame to confirm there were no extras. He tried to get up, but his legs wouldn't carry him.

Jared closed his eyes. He would rest a little before he cleaned the room and showered. He questioned why he had agreed to take a business party. They were invariably harder to please than the regular daddies, and customers who had a genuine kink. If he was honest with himself, this is how he preferred it to be. He didn't want soft words and love that was make-believe. He had experienced that with Jensen, and Jensen was the only one who had ever made it feel right. This was Jared’s penance, and, if it hurt enough, then when his financial debt was paid, maybe his conscience could also be clean.

“Blue? Are you okay?” Clif loomed over him.

Jared opened his eyes. He was still in the nursery. He tried to sit but he was dizzy.

“Fucking animals. How rough were they?”

“Not bad. I'm tired.” He tried to keep his eyes open but everything was gray and fuzzy. He felt Clif throw a blanket over him. Then he was weightless, being carried.

There was a rush of warm water over his skin, and a scrub of soap. Clif supported him as he was rinsed off, and roughly dried. Jared remembered a time when he would have been ashamed of his helpless nudity, but his dignity was long gone. He was wrapped in a towel and carried to his bed. He mumbled thanks and sank into the comfort of his mattress.

When he stirred, Madame sat on the edge of his bed and he was tucked in. “I didn't think that group would ever warm up,” she said, “but they told me they had a wonderful time. They'll be recommending us. Well done!”

Jared was an excellent whore. That much Jensen had taught him. He was a good fuck, but not good enough to stay around for.

Madame patted his arm. “I think you should take Lou tomorrow night. Since we're closed on Wednesday, you will be recovered for the prom special on Thursday.”

He tiredly agreed with her.

Some time during the night, Jared woke to find Mouse wound around him in a hug. The gesture wasn't sexual. They all had bad days, and when one of them was hurt or low, beds were invariably shared. Gem insisted that it prevented tears the next day. Jared didn't know how true it was, but he cuddled Mouse and went back to sleep.

 

 

“MAIL!”

Chad and Bunny fought to be the first to inspect the postcard that arrived with the mailman. Jared ate his breakfast, sitting stiffly in pain, but their antics made him smile.

The first picture-cards had arrived together, a month after he came to the Road House. There had been two from Morocco, one from Madrid and one from Paris. They were all addressed to the Road House in the same neat hand, but there was no message or name. Everyone had puzzled over the sender, and even regular customers had joined in speculating on the mystery. A cork board had been nailed to the wall by Matt, and as each new postcard arrived, it was pinned in a collage. They had become so regular, once a week, that Chad arranged a sweepstake to guess the origin of the next card.

Jared glanced at the board. There were now forty eight cards. He thought his favorites were the modern art print from Marrakech, the one of Mary Poppins dancing in the rain, from London, and one with pink pigeons from Mauritius.

For the last eight weeks, the cards had all originated from towns in Bangladesh and were stamped with the logo of a charity which aimed to improve conditions in the extreme poverty of third-world slums.

“Dhaka,” announced Chad, “Mouse is the winner.”

“Our mystery sender is getting lazy,” decided Bunny, as she chewed her toast.

“Or taking life more seriously,” argued Mia.

Jared stayed quiet. He frowned. More and more he had started to wonder about the life of a mercenary and where it would take a soldier.

“Hey. This is odd. It's addressed to Blue. It's local, and it isn't a tax return.”

He snapped his head up in surprise. There was nobody to send him mail.

The envelope was thick. He stared at the neatly written address, and his heart missed a beat. It was the same handwriting as the mystery postcard sender.

“Open it!” Everyone spoke at once.

Jared eased the flap open and tugged at the card inside. He pulled it out slowly and looked in shock at it. He opened it up but there was no personal message. He stood the card on the table and stared at it.

Mia was the first to react, “ _Is it_ your birthday?” They were all gaping at him.

“Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

 **_Fuck you._ ** _Fuck you, Jensen Ackles. You don't get to do this._ Jared picked the card up, put it back in its envelope, grabbed Bunny's lighter from the table and set fire to it. He dropped it in the kitchen sink and watched it burn. Chad pushed him out of the way to douse it with water, but there was only ash left. “What did you do that for?” Chad yelled.

Jared wasn't listening. He left his breakfast, left the kitchen and walked away.

Mouse found him, down by the canal, watching children feed the ducks. She sat beside him on the low brick wall of a bombed-out building. She put her arms around his waist in a hug, and rested her head on his shoulder. Her hair blew in the wind and her small hand smoothed over his hip. Jared loved all of Madame's other children but Mouse was the always the quiet calm in a storm. For once, he wondered what her story was, and how she shouldered the pain of her life.

“This must be murder on your ass,” she said after a while.

“I like to feel the pain.”

“It takes all sorts.”

“How do you do it?” he asked.

“Same as you, I push it all down and think about paying my debt. I don't have some asshole reminding me of what I was. I never was special in the first place.”

She tilted her face up at him. Not for the first time, her wide green eyes, and the sprinkle of freckles over her snub nose, gave him a jolt. In the first few weeks in the house, it had made him avoid her. He regretted it now. She was a steady and loyal friend. When they were required to play together she was gentle and businesslike, and there was no awkwardness after the session. He didn't always feel the same about Bunny and Chad.

“You were always special, Mouse, even if nobody appreciated you.” He kissed her nose.

“Not like you,” she said it with meaning.

“What?”

“Even Chad put it together in the end.”

He drew breath, slightly panicky, “Do you think any of the customers know?”

“Like they're going to tell? The Padalecki kid was seventeen. They would have to admit to knowingly fucking a minor.”

“I deserve this. I did bad things. Good people got hurt, some died. I doubt the same could be said of you.”

She looked out over the water, squinting into the sun. “I killed my mother,” she said, without emotion. “It was worth it. She'll never hurt my baby brother again. Don't tell Madame that I told.”

“Of course not.”

“C'mon. We're going somewhere.” She tugged his arm.

Jared rolled his eyes when he saw where she was leading him, but they were both addicted to cupcakes.

“Hey. Birthday cake!” she announced.

“What are you going to do, after your ledger is paid?” Jared spoke through the froth of a caramel cappuccino.

“I don't know. I might ask Madame if I can stay on for six months, like Gem, until I have some savings. Then I'll probably get my own certificate. Go independent. I don't have any other skills. It's scary. I'll miss the house, and all of you, especially having Clif, and Matt around, to keep us safe. What about you?”

“I wanted to go to school, but I don't see how. Madame says that at the rate I'm earning I have another year with her. Maybe she would let me have a year after that, or be like Katie and rent from her.”

“You'll find a way.” Mouse covered his hand with hers, and they found more cheerful topics to discuss.

 

Jared was still beautiful, and so very young. Eighteen today, to Jensen's thirty, with his future still unwritten. Jensen thought Jared was taller, and a little broader. His hair was tinted like autumn leaves, and fell to his shoulders soft and shiny, blowing over his face to hide the silvery scar on his cheek. He walked with a slight limp and stiffness which Jensen recognized from his own time, as China. It made him frown. The girl, Mouse, hugged Jared, and he kissed the top of her head. She was tiny in his arms, but they looked good together. They huddled over coffee and shared the most sparkly, pink, and frou-frou cupcake in the shop. The thing Jensen noticed most was that she made Jared smile.   


He followed them, at a distance, past the shattered evidence of civil uprising. The cities were returning to some sort of normal, but remote towns like this, remained debris-ridden and unsanitary.

Quintas had been a shock. Maybe it shouldn't have been a surprise that the first thing he did, once he had control, was to take down his erstwhile mob competitors and squeeze their illegal practices until it hurt. He shut down drug rings, exposed cruel slave farms, and arrested rivals on contrived charges, to give the people the public executions of the bullies who had terrorized them. On the whole, the people were prepared to overlook Quintas's own crimes as an acceptable trade-off. The people's revolutionaries merged into his troops, strengthening his position, and the rest of the world suddenly wanted to do business. Apparently, the ability to run multiple crooked businesses, combined with ruthlessness, and an enormous ego, were precisely the skills required to lead the country. In two months, there would be an election, and Quintas was touted to be everybody's favorite.

The alley door shut behind Jared, and Jensen checked his watch. His sleeve caught on sunburned and freckled skin. In Dhaka, it had been easy to forget the intensity of the sun as he mixed mortar, dug, lifted, and nailed corrugated roofs. The eight week project, to build basic hygiene facilities in run-down schools, had flown by in a haze of camaraderie, with destitute children hanging off him, eager to learn, and always with a ready smile. For the first time in his life, he was proud of what he had achieved. Jensen didn't know what came next, but he knew that for all the gods he sought absolution with, he wouldn't find peace until he made amends with Jared.

He had two hours before Madame Ferris opened shop, another three before Clif took his break and left his understudy at the door. Jensen took out a crumpled note in his pocket and smoothed it. He memorized the address, strengthened his resolve, and hailed a cab.

Jensen picked his way past stinking drains, and ignored pasty-faced youths offering a good time, crystal meth and smack, until he was at a graffiti-splashed apartment with broken glass by the door. “He rang the bell and knocked, until he heard the loud growl of an angry man, “Get yer feckin' ass away from t'door. We're not buyin'.”

He tried the door handle and a lock pick. When that didn't work, he calmly took a square of plastic explosive from his pack, set the fuse, and sheltered under the concrete stairwell, until the door was blown off its hinges. There was a familiar thrill that came with the action, and he relished it. There was silence for only a few seconds before Jensen's, _no Alec's_ , step-father emerged through the cloud of dust, clutching a sawn-off shotgun and raging for the culprit. His pupils were mere pinpricks, his drugged state making him too hazy to perceive real danger. Alec's mother stood behind him, wringing her hands, a barely recognizable, yellow-skinned ghost. Jensen had the shotgun in his own hands before his step father could react. He shoved and kicked the grizzled old bully back into the apartment, with ease, to have him grovel on the floor, under him, and he wasn't as large or frightening as Jensen remembered him.

Years of suppressed anger boiled in Jensen, and this time he wouldn’t project it onto an innocent kid. This time he was going to put the source down forever, like a rabid dog. His mother wailed and hit out, but she was flying high and unable to aim. She punched the wall, and wailed again. “Hi, mom!” Jensen greeted cheerfully, holding his stepfather's own gun to the man's head. “I'm home.”

Her hand leaped to her mouth. She stared hard at him and rocked. “No, it can't be.”

“You’re either lying or a faggot,” his stepfather spat at him.

“Oh, I'm gay. I love men. I love fucking men, consensually. Boys are beautiful, but I wouldn't rape young boys. That would make me not just a faggot but a sick, perverted, faggot. I'm not low enough to force drugs on a kid either. You though, you know all about it, because _you are_ a sick perverted faggot.”

His mother looked between her husband and the man restraining him under his boot. “Alec in the sky with diamonds. Your eyes shine, like dead.” She swayed and continued muttering under her breath.

“I was twelve, and dad had just died.” Jensen couldn’t prevent the tear in his eye and a hitch in his breath.His step-father struggled and ranted incoherently. Jensen crunched a boot into his jaw to silence him. “This piece of shit raped me, and you were too high to care.” Jensen shook his head at his mother’s emaciated state, “You still are,” he noted softly. “You pretended not to notice, every single time. Well done. You get all the parenting awards, mom. This creep, well, he gets an award of sorts too.”

Jensen pulled the trigger. He ignored the recoil and blood spatter, as he watched step-father's disbelief turn to glazed eyes and a pool of blood. Jensen felt nothing. He cleaned his prints from the gun, placed it in his step-father's hand and looked down at his pale and trembling mother. He waited for her to say something, _sorry_ , anything, but she was mute. Jensen sat her in a chair, and placed a cup of water by her side. “Get yourself clean. I forgive you, but that's all you get. I won't come back.” He walked away from his mother, and from his past. He wasn't Alec any longer, hadn't been since he was fourteen, when Madame Ferris spotted a street-kid who was starved and beaten. She had picked him up, called him China, and made him hers.

The new bouncer at the Road House let Jensen in without a glance. He bought a drink from the bar, where Matt eyed him with suspicion but didn't seem to place him. Jensen swept the rooms with his eyes, looking for Jared. It wasn't his day off, and he couldn't see him in the guest area. An old man sat reading a paper in the corner of the room, _Lou_ , and it was with a sick feeling that he realized that there was somebody under the table with him. He could guess who it was.

A petite brunette in a short lacy dress, sashayed over to him with a coy smile,

“Gem?”

“Hey there, what can I do for… _China_? What are you doing here?”

“I came in the front door. I want an appointment.”

Gem regained her composure. “Of course, sir. If you'd like to accompany me to the desk, I can arrange that. Have you any preference for boy or girl.”

“I want Blue for an hour. Any room. Bill me for everything, and I'll cover it, just don't tell him that it's me.”

Gem looked at Jensen doubtfully, “Wait here, sir. I have to check something.”

Jensen side-eyed Lou. He calculated the chances of grabbing Jared and hot-tailing it out of there, and they weren't high, which is how he managed to still be waiting when Madame Ferris, grasped his ear and dragged him like an errant schoolboy, to her office. “What in hell are you up to, China?”

Clif positioned himself outside the office and Ferris closed the door. “Are you trying to steal one of my assets?”

“No, no. I want an appointment. I can pay.”

She leaned her elbows on her desk, “Help me out here, China. Why should I let you near my boy? You damn near killed him. When you said 'I did it', I assumed you meant, you got the boy out of harm's way, not that you broke his spirit and beat him almost to death. Then you left without goodbye and broke the rest of him. He hasn't been easy you know. It was months before I could trust him not to hurt himself or run. Sometimes he needs physical restraint, other times he lets customers hurt him, and encourages them to go too far. We have to monitor him. Do you know who he hates, more than anyone else?”

Jensen worried at his lip, the blood had drained from his face, “No.”

“You and himself. Now, tell me again why I should let you fuck my boy and fuck him up again?”

“I just want an hour to talk to him. I need to explain.”

“You could have called by, outside working hours.”

“I knew he wouldn't see me.”

“So, you have your answer. I won't force an employee to take an appointment with someone who has previously hurt them.”

“I won't ever hurt him again. I've changed. He changed me, and I have to tell him what he means to me.” He bit his lip until a trace of blood appeared. “It's been a year, and I looked for something…I had to find something...I kept looking...but then I realized, I left it here with you. Do you understand? I want to make things right with him, that's all. Then, if he wants me to get lost forever, I will.”

“For a bright man, you can be incredibly stupid, China.” She leaned back in her chair. “I'll talk to him. Come by tomorrow. If he refuses to see you, then you will leave without fuss, or I will personally chop off your balls. Do you understand me?”

Jensen breathed a sigh of relief, “Yes, ma'am.”

“Now, scram!” Madame Ferris showed Jensen out.


	16. Big Bang 2013: Have Hatred and Gravity Won - 15/19

 

Madame always had the last word, which was why Jared waited nervously in the recreation room, unable to concentrate on the book he was reading. He checked his jeans once more, and there weren't stains. His plaid shirt was deliberately casual over a black tee shirt, and his fashionable shades rested on top of his head, softly holding his hair in place. Mia had picked out the plaid to bring out the colors in his eyes, and it made him want to laugh. He had no interest in looking good for Jensen. If he ran to the door when the buzzer went, it wasn't because he was eager, but because he didn't want to inconvenience anyone else.  


“Er, hey, Jared.” Jensen looked up at him and offered a box.

“Blue,” corrected Jared.

“Sorry, _Blue_. I brought you these. I didn't think flowers were your thing, and well, you like sweets.”

Jared wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the mercenary calling for the whore with the cheesy date cliché of a box of chocolates. Instead, he took the offering with muttered thanks and, “This isn't a date Jensen.” He waved him through to the empty kitchen.

“I know. I just figured Madame is such a healthy-eating freak that you might want to share these with the others.”

“We are allowed out, y'know.”

“Yeah, about that.” Jensen scratched the back of his neck, and shuffled. “I was hoping that you could go with me somewhere. Outside.”

Jensen looked good. His skin glowed with a hint of sun, perhaps a bit red, but his freckles dusted everywhere, and Jared had always loved those. He didn't look a day older than when had seen him last, almost a year earlier. In fact there was something lighter in his manner, a softening of his stance that suited him. Jared had to remind himself of the danger of him. He wouldn't be seduced by Jensen's charms again. “Is there a bounty to bring me in?” he asked, coldly.

“No! Well, I don't know, but I wouldn't.”

“You expect me to believe you don't know that there is a reward for bringing me in to Quintas? You were his whore, Jensen.”

Jensen huffed, “People can change. I haven't been around.”

Jared pointed to the postcard collage on the cork board. “No. I guess not. It must be nice, to be able to travel, and y'know kill folks in every port.”

“I'm not going to kidnap you, or kill anybody, okay! I came because I wanted to see you. I missed you.”

“You don't know me.” Jared was blunt. “I certainly never knew you, because I wouldn't have let you use me. I would have stopped you, and your friends.”

“They weren't my friends,” Jensen protested. “I know it now.” His hand reached to take Jared's hand. It was soft and warm and his fingers curled into Jared’s with gentleness.“You were my friend, and I didn't appreciate it at the time,” Jensen lifted both of their hands to trace the JP that Jared had carved into his face the first night they met. Jared couldn't look. It had healed without attention, and was raised and obvious. “You made me yours, and I tried to break the habit, but somehow, you still own a piece of me. I can't shake you.”

“Just stop with the romantic crap, Jensen! This isn't a novel. It was a crush. You were good looking, available, and I _thought_ you wanted awkward, geeky, hormonal me, just the way I was. Nobody else ever had. You filled a kink, which y'know, I guess I _really_ don't need any more. I have sex and daddies every day, sometimes several times a day. I'm a whore Jensen. You did that to me. _You threw me out as trash._ ”

He didn't realize he was shouting until Chad poked his head around the door. “You okay in here, Blue?” The look he was giving Jensen was murderous, and for a moment Jared felt sorry for Jensen.

“Yeah, Chad. We were just going out. Catch some sun, y'know.”

Jensen looked confused, “You said…”

Jared tugged his hand. “If it's a date I expect expensive food.”

“We could go for cupcakes,” Jensen suggested,

Jared stopped dead. He felt sick. Of course, deception was what Jensen was, and what he did best. “You've been spying on me.”

To his credit, Jensen blushed. “I didn't know if you'd want to see me.” Then a smile came over his face, “At least it proves I won't kidnap you. I could have done that when you were alone by the canal.”

Jensen's delight that he had something to prove his point made Jared think he didn't understand how screwed up his actions were. In a sick sort of way, this new side of Jensen was fascinating.

The breeze was chilly, but the sun shone. Clouds scudded overhead, threatening rain but it stayed dry. They walked, awkwardly bumping arms, not quite looking at each other, like lovers after an argument.

Jared broke the silence. “I don't understand what you want from me.”

“I want you to know me. I want to be ourselves, to talk and be truthful. Then I'll ask you a question, and you don't have to say yes.”

“I've never hidden from you. I gave you _everything_.” Jared's fists clenched. He could punch Jensen, so hard right now.

“Then just talk.”

“I'd rather listen.”

They drifted along the pavement, Jensen had his hands in his pockets, but his back was military-straight. “What do you want to hear?”

“Who are you?”

Jensen looked away, up to the rooftops and into the cloud. “You have to ask _that._ ”

“Is it top secret? You must have a name.”

“I've had lots of names. I think Jensen suits me best. Here…” he nudged Jared to turn with him, into a battered and overgrown cemetery. Until then, Jared had thought their wandering was directionless. They stepped over cracked stones and raised ground, until they reached some newer marble memorials. “This one.” Jensen stopped and pointed at a headstone.

Jared looked at the name, it meant nothing to him. **Alexander McDowell**. The date of his death was listed as Jared's birthday. He wondered about the coincidence.

“I was named after him. Mom and dad called me Alec. Do you remember the day you were born? No, wait a minute. I mean, do you know anything about the date?”

Jared searched his memory for a hint, but history had never been a favorite subject. He shook his head.

“They called it Massacre Monday, but there are no memorials. One hundred and four workers died across the nation that day. My father was one of them. I had just turned twelve.”

“You have to bring me here to tell me your name is Alec?”

“I'm not Alec. I haven't been Alec for a long time. I brought you to explain, about you and me, and I know what I'm going to tell you isn't rational, but I don't think I was rational for a very long time.”

Jared did the math, “Real you is thirty, then.”

“And now you know more about me than anyone else does.” Jensen looked at the ground and chewed at his lip. He appeared oddly young and vulnerable.

“Do you miss your dad?”

“I did, but I hardly remember him now. It toughened me up.” Jensen reverently smoothed the dust from the name in the stone.

“Maybe I didn't want to be tough. I miss Pa, and I've no grave to visit. At least you had somewhere.” Jared didn't mean for it to sound so bitter.

Jensen dipped his head. “I never came. I don't think he'd be proud of me.”

“No, shit! Is there a purpose to this story, or can I go home now?”

“You hate me, don't you?” Jensen's mouth pressed thin, and his jaw was stiff.

“Yeah, I do.” Jared couldn't help the venom in his words.

“I hated you for so long.” Jensen looked directly at Jared. “Then I met you, and I hated you some more. Then, I think I fell a little in love with you, and you found me, before I knew I was lost.”

Jared tried to wrap his head around the meaning of his words, but they made no sense. Jensen walked away from the grave, and Jared followed.

Jensen talked as they walked. “My father worked at the local car plant. His job was nothing special, but he made a living. When worker's rights were cut, slaves replaced regular employees, and a lot of his friends lost their jobs.  The slaves were mistreated. Nobody won except management. Pa kept his job, but there was a principle involved. He was in a union. Your father headed it up. Padalecki had such a silver tongue. We would watch him debate on TV, and he was invincible to me, and a hero to my dad. There were small strikes for months. When they got ugly, Padalecki smoothed it over and turned it around. It looked like the unions were succeeding. The day he called for a general, nationwide strike, my dad convinced his co-workers to take part.” Jensen gave a dark laugh, “What could go wrong, with Padalecki there?”

Jared frowned, “I don't know.”

“Work it out, dummy. It was the day you were born. You were a month premature, and your father was by your mother's side when the industrial action went down. _He wasn't there,_ and when it went bad, there was nobody in the media's face to protest against military violence. I missed school that day, because the teachers' union had joined the strike. We watched as workers were beaten and killed, under the excuse of public order, all over the country, and when my dad didn't return _, we knew_ he wasn't ever coming home.”

“You blamed my Pa, for your father's death because he wasn't available for the media? That's nuts.”

“Well, there's the thing. I suppose I still needed to believe that the government could be overthrown. I didn't blame your father. I blamed you.”

Jared paused, open-mouthed, before speaking, trying to comprehend what Jensen had told him. “Oh my god. You were already psycho, as a kid. _I was a baby_. Who the fuck does that?”

Jensen shrugged. He looked like he'd been expecting the outburst, “I told you it wasn't rational. It would probably have gone away, but my mother met my stepfather…he, er, he wasn't very nice. There were pictures in the news of you being doted on by your loving family, and all I had was a monster, and a strung out mother.” Jensen stared straight ahead, his lip twisted and his eyes gleamed wet.

Jared wasn't enough of a jerk that he didn't acknowledge that, for such a tough man, it was obviously a big deal, “I'm sorry, man.” He patted Jensen's shoulder, “Not sorry for being born, just sorry your step-dad was an asswipe. What happened? How did you end up at the Road House?”

“I ran away. I slept on the streets. After a while I got in with a gang, who let me sleep in their hide-outs. I'd run packets of drugs, and steal shit. I got real good at it, and I could fight. I was light but I was nimble; give me a knife, and nobody would touch me. I thought I was James Bond, a real tough guy.”

“Not much has changed then,” Jared joked.

“When I was fourteen, I thought I was invincible. Then, some bastard did the double-cross on a packet I was carrying. I was five ounces short of crystal on the delivery, and the dealer was pissed with me. He tried to make me talk, but I didn't know anything. When I woke up, I was at the Road House, and my name was China. I thought it was a sweet deal. I got a bed, food and family. All I had to do was play the games my stepfather played with me, except I was in control, and I got paid. I was China for five years. I was a great whore. I played my roles perfectly.”

Jared realized that they had walked in a circle, and were heading back to the Road House. He pictured how young and lost Jensen had been. “How could you think so little of yourself?”

“How can you encourage clients to hurt you?” Jensen's gaze was suddenly piercing.

Jared faltered, “I, I don't.” Their arms bumped as they walked close, and Jared felt Jensen's warmth and proximity with a tingle up his spine. They had gravitated close during the conversation. He hated how natural it felt.

“Madame is worried about you.”

Clif had said something similar, but Jared hadn't listened. It was no business of Jensen's but somehow he couldn't help answering, “She's worried about her profits. Customers pay more for a few bruises. I'll never be perfect. I'm already scarred, what's a little more?” He tucked his hair behind his ear making the silver outline of the carved JA visible.”

Jensen grabbed his arm.

The Road House was in Jared's sight but there was nobody nearby to stop Jensen from taking, or even killing him. Fear coursed through him and he yelped. Jensen dropped his grip immediately, and paled. “Jared, I only want to help you.” He put his hands up in surrender and backed off. “I'm sorry. It's just, that you are perfect. Whatever marks I made on your skin, your perfection could never be damaged. I know you're still in there. You have to stop, before you lose yourself.”

“Is that what happened to you?”

“After the Road House, there was only one career open to me. At nineteen I still looked like a twink, but I belonged in the army, I had my papers and I got through basic training. I was good. I'm a fucking amazing soldier, and they discovered that I had a certain moral and personal flexibility. I was drafted into special ops, and I was invincible. I _was freakin' James Bond,_ and it felt good, to be the one in charge, the one dishing it out for a change. I had more names, more roles, than I can remember. I became a different person every time. I killed a lot of people, in the name of your father. I saw what he became, and I painted it in blood. It no longer seemed important who I played my part for, so I found a different army, one who would appreciate me in dollars. _A lot of dollars._ ”

They stopped at the side door of the house and Jared produced a key. Jensen put his hand over the lock, and leaned against the door. “Don't go in. Don't go back. I can pay your debt. You can come with me.”

 

Jensen held his breath. Jared's eyes widened prettily, but his jaw squared. His retort was neither as good, or as bad, as Jensen had anticipated.  


“Why would you say that to me?”

“Because you can come with me. You don't have to fuck a queue of men who don't love you and don't see you. We can make a life. We can do it differently.”

Jensen could have stopped the fist that piled into his jaw, but he didn't. He took the backlash that strained the muscles in his neck, and he reveled in the bruising force at his jaw. He rubbed his chin as Jared's eyes sparked with anger.Jared’s reply was a tightly controlled growl, “A year, Jensen. You don't get to buy me with blood money to soothe your conscience now.”

Jensen clicked his jaw and rubbed the blossoming bruise, “Jared, that's not what it's about. Give me a chance. I'll prove it to you.”

Jared looked around. He shoved Jensen out of the way and opened the door. “Get inside. We can’t be seen arguing here.” He dragged Jensen in and up to the privacy of his bedroom, and Jensen trailed behind, putty in his hands.

Jared slid the bolt on his door, and sat on his bed. He looked up at Jensen, with fluttering lashes through silky bangs, but his eyes glittered coldly. “You want what we had? We were good at this,” he drawled. He unbuttoned his shirt slowly, and peeled it off, before crossing his arms over his chest and lifting the tee over his head. He leaned back on one hand and tipped his head back offering, miles of firm, young and creamy flesh. There was the faint mottle of bruises on his skin and his nipples were perky and dusky pink. He was as beautiful as Jensen remembered him, with a new confidence that took his breath away. “You're incredible.” Jensen couldn't help the words. He waited for the smart mouthed response, while his mind pondered the reason why Jared was doing this. Barely a minute ago Jared had punched Jensen and made it clear he wanted nothing to do with him. Now he was giving a striptease. It made no sense.

Jared lifted his hips and unzipped his pants. It felt like a challenge, and Jensen was out of his depth.

Jared beckoned Jensen with his forefinger. He had his other hand down his boxers, stroking himself deliberately. Jensen was drowning in confusion, but his dick wasn't saying no. He stood in front of Jared. Jared unfastened Jensen’s shirt buttons, slid his hands inside, and caressed Jensen's chest. He leaned his forehead against Jensen's breast and lapped at his navel.” Take off your clothes, Jensen. This is my space. Nobody buys me here. I get to choose.

Jensen dropped his shirt to the ground, watching as Jared stripped entirely.

“Well, c'mon. This is what you want isn't it?” Jared lay naked on his bed. He bent his legs and splayed them wide, produced lube from his nightstand drawer, coated his fingers, and thrust one in his hole, while his other hand still stroked his cock, giving Jensen a show.

Jensen's hand went to his zipper, where his erection bulged, eager for action, but he didn't release it. He sat on the bed, and tried to only concentrate on Jared's face. Memories of flesh on flesh and panting pleasure assaulted him with every glance of the naked body. He took a deep breath, to steady himself. “Why are you doing this, Jared?”

“I want to. Can't you tell?” Jared sat up and wound his arm around Jensen. He pulled him close, his sweet coffee and cupcake breath ghosting over Jensen's face. “Don't you want to?” he growled, sexily.

Jensen backed off. His brain and his dick were getting different messages and he didn't know what to do. “Jared, I'm not sure you really want this.”

Jared rolled over with a smug grin. He lay on the bed with his chin on his hand, “You don't know if I'm serious, because _you don't know me_. We've done things to each other; cruel things that no sane person should. There's no trust, yet you ask me to go with you, to be in debt to you?”

“No debt. It isn't a loan.”

“I wasn't talking about money.” Jared explained wearily.

“Oh.” Jensen grabbed his shirt. He felt ridiculous having the conversation undressed, and it hurt to be played so cynically by Jared. “Are you dating _her_ , the Mouse?”

Jared scowled, “No Jensen, but we fuck for the daddies. You know how it is. Sometimes we share cakes, but you already knew that. Not that it's any concern of yours.”

“No, yeah, I know. I wondered if that was why...”

“You're really not getting it. How many boyfriends have you had, Jensen?”

“Are you jealous?”

“Curious, because you're thirty and you don't seem to understand how a relationship works.”

“I had … things.” Jensen could feel his cheeks flaring with embarrassment.

“You fucked johns, targets and one-night stands. Am I right? You said you'd be honest with me.”

Jensen wanted the floor to open up and swallow him. He nodded mutely.

Jared gave a dry laugh, but his attitude softened. “It's supposed to be me who is clueless.”

“I never wanted anyone until I met you.” Jensen lay his heart on the line. It beat, fast and vulnerable, “You showed me pieces of what I was missing. I didn't know how to fit it together until now.”

Jared patted the bed. “Come and lie with me to talk, like we used to.” It was a sincere invitation. Jensen put his feet up and lay back, just touching Jared's smooth bare skin. “So, tell me who you are.” The questions came around full circle, and Jensen still didn't have an answer. Jared tried again “Are you going to stay in Monkota?”

Jensen shook his head. This one was simple. He didn't have the papers to stay. He was still a wanted man, and his stepfather's murder compounded it. “I can't. You can go with me.”

“Where to?”

“We can go anywhere. I have money.”

“Generally, dating precedes eloping. How long before we find out our hate is genuine? How long until your comrades catch up with you? How long until you kill again?” 

“I don't do that any more. The postcards I sent, Dhaka, all of that, I was on my own. After you, I left my team.”

“Really? Wow.” Jared whistled his approval. “Makes me feel kinda responsible. So, the last person you iced was a year ago?”

Jensen couldn't answer. He looked down, and away from Jared. His guilt was evident.

“Oh. Shit! Y'know, you almost had me, Jensen. Huh. Dare I ask when?”

Jensen had no idea why he answered honestly, except he'd promised to be truthful, and he wanted Jared to trust in that, at least. “Yesterday,” Jensen said, flatly. He rolled to the side of the bed, ready to get up and leave. Jared hooked an arm around him and rolled him back, until they were face to face.

“You were going to ask me a question, Jensen. You should ask it now.”

“Will you come with me, Jared?”

“No.”

“Right. I knew that.” Jensen had known it was unlikely Jared would say yes, but it didn't stop him from shattering inside. “Do you think you can ever forgive me?”

“I already did. I like you, even when I hate you, if that makes any sense. Trust is more difficult. I like Jensen, the one who went fishing with me. He was kind, awesome and very hot, but he wasn't you.” Jared gave a wry laugh, “And I'm not the kid who went fishing with him any more.”

“Yeah, you are. You haven't lost yourself yet. That kid was pretty special. Keep a hold of him.” Jensen wriggled in Jared's hold, “I should go.”

“Prom-night special doesn't start until seven. We've got hours. We could kiss, for old times sake. No strings attached. We know we're good at that.”

Jensen knew it was a bad idea. _He should leave immediately, walk away and not look back._ Somehow he didn't seem able. When Jared's lips descended softly, he let his mouth open in welcome, and he gave into the sensation. They kissed like they didn't need air, with Jared tugging at his clothes. Then they kissed again, naked and writhing against each other. When Jensen's cock was buried in Jared's ass, and they moved into each other with panting elation, it felt like home. Jensen gave everything, because he wouldn't have it again.

  



	17. Big Bang 2013: Have Hatred and Gravity Won - 16/19

  
Jensen lay flat. He zeroed in, with cross hairs over his target, and fired. The zing of the shot echoed, and in the distance a can pinged, rattled and fell. “Shit! That’s impressive.” gasped Harvey, standing next to him, with his fanny pack and his over sized camera.  


In retrospect, Jensen's decision to sign up for a tourist hike n' hunt expedition, was a mistake. Nick, the very attractive reason for the sudden decision to sign up, was busy making out with the survival 'specialist' Mike, and Jensen's attempts at being normal were pathetic.

He fired five shots in a row, without a pause, took every target out, even at the furthest distance, and finished by field stripping his weapon. The rest of the group gaped.

“Nice,” said their excursion-leader, finally.

Jensen hoisted his pack onto his back.  “I think I'll head on back.”

There were more drawn breaths. “You can't do that! It's too dangerous,” the leader insisted.

Mike stopped fondling Nick long enough to add his own lecture, on being three days out from civilization, and how Jensen would perish without survival skills. Jensen's frustration peaked, and Mike found himself face-down on the dusty trail in a painful hold, while the rest of the group shuffled and squealed in panic, and asked him to be reasonable. “Give me a waiver to sign, and I'll be reasonable,” he snarled.

The journey down the mountainside, to the small town from where they'd started took a day, and was no lonelier than being in the group. It gave him time to think, which was no help at all. He'd had way too much of that, in the six months since leaving Jared at the Road House. He had lain in bed with Jared after making love to him, and the boy had slept, skin to skin, sweaty and warm against him. Jensen had savored every moment and then it was over, too soon. Jared had showered, dressed for a prom, put make up on his face and condoms in his pocket, gave Jensen a goodbye kiss, and had gone to work. Jensen had left Monkota, and the postcards had started arriving at the Road House once more. Jensen clung on to the pain of Jared’s rejection because it made him human. For the first time since he was a child, Jensen let all his emotions in. He let himself laugh and cry, and feel alive. He wasn’t sure where he was heading. For a while, every time he reached a new destination, he had high hopes that he would find what he was looking for. He never did. He was beginning to think he never would.

Jensen found a bar and took a seat under the head of a deer that jutted from a plaque on the wall. A gnarled old man nodded in his direction and continued drinking. He took a mouthful of his own beer and leaned against the wall. In the corner of the bar, the TV flickered with a loop of the daily news. He shut his eyes and considered his options. There was a leaflet in his pack for yet another charity project. Another place, more sunburn. In the background the news hack's nasal whine described the freshly elected President Quintas's first new legislation in Monkota. That was the thing about _home_ , Jensen thought with an unconscious smile, there wasn't much chance of sunburn. He'd like to go fishing there again one day.

When he opened his eyes, something had changed, and he jumped in shock. He stared at the object on the table and reached for his gun. A toy camel stared back, silently judging him.

“Getting sloppy, Ross, or is it Jensen?” Misha slipped onto the chair opposite him. He put both palms flat on the table, “C'mon! No weapons, dude.” He looked amused at Jensen’s obvious surprise.

Jensen kept his hand on his gun, ready to draw. “Where's JD?”

Misha was relaxed and sarcastic. “I think the appropriate words are, _Hey, bro, good to see you, can I get you a beer_? But I guess, _where's JD?_ works for me.”

“What do you want?”

“Do I need a reason for looking up an old friend?”

“Generally, yes.” Jensen regarded him with suspicion, but no panic. He wasn't sure he cared what happened to himself any more.

“I'm going to take my hands off the table, to order a beer. You chill with that?”

Jensen nodded assent. If this was a take-down, then Misha was only the distraction.

“Danni couldn't make it. She says hi, and thanks for the necklace. She'll be pissed you didn't ask after her.”

“Yeah, well, you surprised me.” Jensen shrugged.

“JD enjoyed the JD, he drank it while he worried about you, asshole.”

“I needed time. I'm not tied to anyone.”

Misha's beer arrived, and he took a swig. His bright blue eyes barely left Jensen. He looked him up and down, assessing him. “Seriously dude. You can let go of your weapon. It's a social visit.”

Jensen relaxed a little. “You're not gonna cuff me and throw me on a plane to Agadir are you?”

“Oh man! You're not telling me our silly prank freaked you out?”

“Because it wouldn't have freaked you?”

“Only if I had a secret.”

“We all have secrets, Misha.”

“Fair point, but I know you're tougher than that. Maybe it was all about the boy. I can't say I care, I don't do that any more.”

“You don't?”

“Alpaca farming. Alpacas are cool. The wool is best quality, and soft. I have some samples with me if you want to see.”

Jensen blinked. “Please tell me you're undercover.”

“I retired three months after you left. A hostage retrieval went to hell. We lost six of the team. Danni and I barely made it out. Made me think you did the right thing.  None of us need the money, so why take the chances? Now, I have alpacas. Everyone has to have a hobby.”

“Wow. It's unexpected. Wool?”

“Yeah. Well, there's a woman too. It's her farm. It's awesome and so is she.” Misha grinned like a loon. It was genuine joy.

Jensen dropped his fingers from his weapon and smiled. “You dog! So, what about JD? Did you keep in touch?”

“Oh, JD, right. He lost a few fingers. Pretty much lost his spirit. I think he's back in the game, but he's not the same. He's married to the job, the rest of us weren't.”

“I'm not sure about that.” Jensen, drew circles with his finger, around his beer bottle.

“You missing it?”

“Maybe.”

“And there I was thinking you left us for love.”

Jensen sucked down another mouthful of beer, before replying. “I was looking for something. Thought I'd found it. Turns out I was wrong.”

“Here.” Misha scrolled through his cell-phone, and turned the display to Jensen. “That's Danni's. She went freelance, but I heard it said, she needs another pair of hands.”

Jensen worried at the label on the beer bottle, while he surreptitiously scanned the room. It was too convenient. “Misha, how did you find me?”

“Oh, that! I wasn't looking. It's always the same isn't it? Search everywhere for something and you can't find it. Then, you stop looking and wham, _there it is_. Vicki was checking out the craft festival, and I overheard some Rangers talking about an asshole who shook up some sort of hiking expedition. Course, the name got my attention. There aren't many Jensen Ackles out there, and the only one I know, is supposed to be dead.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“Misha? Who's this?” A slight lady, with dark hair, wearing an extraordinary penguin-patterned sweater, slid onto a stool next to Misha.

“Oh, hey, Vicki, um, this is Jensen, Jensen, this is my wife Vicki.”

Jensen thought he might drop his beer in surprise. “We were just catching up,” he started to explain.

Misha interrupted, “… with local events. Jensen has some great ideas. He's been here for a few days, haven't you?”

He didn't need Misha's kick under the table, to get the idea. “Yes, er. The hiking trips are interesting,” he said lamely. “Your husband said you were here for the craft fair,” he threw the ball firmly back into Misha's court. 

Vicky and Misha described yarns and dyes at length, and in the background, the news returned to Monkota. Bored, Jensen idly listened to the television “ _the president announced a slave amnesty, for former slaves of Padalecki regime…property and possessions returned where they can be traced…rebuilding structure and education…”_

“What do you think?” Vicki was talking to him, holding up two strands of wool.

Jensen hadn't heard a word they were saying, he startled and looked at them, “The purple,” he said, taking a stab in the dark.

“Hmm. I'm still not sure.” Vicki replaced them in her bag. She glanced at Jensen, and there was something in her look that made him uncomfortable.

Jensen needed to piss; beer and boredom will do that to a man. He excused himself and picked his way warily through the bar, looking for signs of danger. It was only on the way out of the men's room that he was approached. Vicki stood by the door, unarmed, but with an unfriendly frown. “We need to talk.”

Jensen ad-libbed with a boyish grin, “Look lady, you're very pretty but I'm not hitting on you.”

“Don't bullshit me! I know your type. You're the same as that redhead Misha used to work with.” Vicki gripped his arm. “Do you think I'm stupid? I know what Misha was, and it's finished. He's got too much to live for.” She stroked her belly, and he noticed her slight bulge for the first time. “He doesn't do it any more. Do you understand me? I swear, if you come near him again, you won't make it to your next little mission, whatever it might be. We're happy. He's building a life. Leave us alone.” She marched back to Misha, and her demeanor softened as she kissed his cheek.  They sat side by side, with not a gap between them and Misha rested his hand on her knee. They looked content.

Jensen made a decision. He had calls to make, somewhere to go.

 

  
Jared chased Misti around the breakfast table. He caught her in long arms and she giggled uncontrollably, gripping his toast in her hand and grabbing a bite to tease him. “Toast thief!” he declared, just before Chad grabbed it from both of them and stuffed it in his mouth whole. They both glared at him.  


“Wab?” Chad asked, with hamster-cheeks.

Jared sneaked a look at Misti. She had been in the house for five days, and he knew she was finding it tough. So was he. He hadn't seen Gem since she left four months ago, and while Mouse sometimes worked the bar as an independent, it was lonely without her. There were new residents, while Chad, Bunny and Mia remained. He wondered what their real ages were. Jared suspected that Madame Ferris's ledger adjusted to roughly reflect the age at which an employee was no longer at a prime for her business. It would have made him angry once, but he wasn't that boy any more.  

“Blue. Can I see you in my office?” Madame waited by the door of the kitchen for him.

Jared tried to recall the details of every customer in the past week. Requests to attend Madame's office were few, and usually associated with a transgression. He bowed his head and followed her.

“Sit down,”

“Yes, ma'am.”

She slid his ledger from a drawer. “I'll be blunt. Your payments have accrued rapidly. I'll be letting you go in three months.”

Jared's stomach churned. He had nowhere to live, and no way to earn the money he needed to find somewhere. He couldn't depend on Mouse, she was only just coping with living and working in a single room apartment. “Can I stay on, until I have savings?”

“You're already older than the rest of my children, and you have grown so large. In any other establishment there wouldn't be a problem, but here it's an issue.” She gave a sympathetic smile, “You'll have a new set of papers. Do you prefer any particular forename?”

It should have been an ecstatic feeling, but his world was crashing in. Jared took a moment to compose himself. “I want to be me. I want to be Jared.”

“Isn't that dangerous?”

“It's a common enough name in this region. I need to be me.”

“If you're sure.”

“Yeah, I am.”

Madame Ferris pushed a leaflet over the desk at Jared. “They were handing these out at the store. It's part of the civic regeneration program. I thought it was ideal for you. If you want to apply, I will arrange the details.”

He turned the flyer in his hand, and skimmed the text. He let go of the breath he'd been holding, “It’s a college sponsorship program. I would have to pass an exam and there are community projects to work on.” He looked at Madame with wide eyes, he could barely believe the text, and needed her confirmation “It’s a free ride through college!”

“There’s a lot of hours of work to put in, and heavy building tasks listed there, but I have no doubt you would cope.” Madame nodded her support.

He bit his lip, as his excitement turned to despair, there had to be hundreds of applicants for a place, and he was a whore.  “They won't want me.” He was sure.

“Blue, the admissions officer at the college is Bunny's customer. I don't see that they can turn you down.” She winked at him. “Do your best, and then leave it to me.”  Madame patted his hand in a reassuring gesture.

 

***

  
  
  
College started a week after Jared's ledger was cleared. Madame Ferris let him stay for the week, and found notebooks, pens and an old laptop for him, in the depths of her office. She handed him his papers and his identity card without ceremony, and wished him luck.  


Jared Singer carried a pack and a suitcase with him. He had gifts from everyone at the house and a food parcel for his first week. The college halls bustled with activity and noise. There were welcome banners and balloons, and social clubs vying to sign up new members. Mouse ran by his side, to keep up with his long strides. “Wait up!” she laughed.

“I don't want to miss orientation,” Jared could hardly believe he’d made it. He was alive and free, and embarking on an engineering degree. He could have a decent future, and he was unwilling to miss a moment of it.

“You're early, Blu ...Jared.”

“I want to find my dorm.” Jared grinned excitedly.

“You're over excited,” Mouse giggled, caught up in her friend’s joy.

“Yeah, I am.” Jared bounced like a puppy. He couldn't believe he was getting this chance. For a fleeting moment he wished he had a way to share it with Jensen, a number, or a way to send a postcard.

“Here! This is yours.” Mouse called.

The door opened, to a basic room with three beds, storage and desks. A young man sat by the window, strumming a guitar. He turned to grin at them. “Roomie! I'm Steve. Our other inmate, Christian, will be late. He requested the bed farthest from the door, but since he's not here, it's your choice.”

Jared dumped his belongings on the nearest bed. “Jared. I'm on the regeneration program, so I best be by the door. They warned we'd have to work some late nights.”

“That's a drag.”

“I'm used to them. It's the early mornings which will be a killer.”

“You fit in already, kid. What are you studying?”

“Engineering mostly, but the course has other elements. I'll be assigned to help with local building projects and social schemes.”

“It sounds practical.”

Jared couldn't hide his enthusiasm, “Yeah, it is, and the lecturers at this college are some of the best.”

Steve continued strumming as he spoke, “I heard the scheme is a free ride.”

Jared's mood sank. He'd been warned that some students resented or shunned the regeneration students because of the aid they were given. His education, room and books were paid for by the state, and even his meals were provided under a coupon system. He had a little cash saved from customer tips, for clothes and everyday items, but he was easily identified as a charity-case. His smile faded, and he set about unpacking his meager belongings.

“Sounds to me like it's not free at all. You'll be working harder than any of us. If you need help, ask us first. We're your dorm buddies.”

The relief that Steve accepted him was huge. His anxiety started to fade. “Thanks,” Jared smiled and his dimples showed. They went on a whirlwind tour of the campus and Jared shared coffee and a cookie with Mouse in the busy dining hall, before she hugged him goodbye, and he was alone again.

Days were filled with classes and projects. It seemed like an age had passed since Jared had solved math problems with Jensen, and it was difficult to get back into a study routine. Steve and Christian teased him about the time he spent with his nose in a book, but they respected his need to be quiet. Most nights they slung their guitar cases over their backs and headed to a local bar where they were paid in beer and a few dollars, to perform the songs they wrote. The first time they saw the small portions Jared got with his food coupons, they were horrified. After that, snacks of chips, chocolate and cookies appeared regularly on his desk. Jared accepted them without a word, and ran small errands like picking up their books from the library.

In the third week of the semester, Jared’s class was given their first regeneration projects, and they crowded around the notice board to see what assignments they were set. Jared scanned the lists looking for Jared Singer and found his name against the renewal of the railway station. He high-fived Jake and Rachel who were assigned to the same team. 

“Oh, my god!” Rachel almost swooned, “Did you see who our project leader is?”

Jared and Jake hadn't looked, they shook their heads.

“We got Ackles. Lexie and Cara saw him in the faculty meeting and they reckon he is super-hot, like molten-metal,” she licked her finger and made a sizzling sound.

Jake laughed, “You are so shallow.”

Jared stared at the notice. The name was a painful reminder of the one person he was trying to forget.

“Are you okay?” Jake asked.

“Yeah, just wondering what he'll be like to work with.”

“Heaven,” Rachel commented, doing a little dance through the corridor to their next class.

The bus dropped them close to the railway station. They stood in a cluster, in fine dreary rain, to appreciate the scale of the project. Fire-blackened brickwork gaped with ragged holes, guttering dripped, windows were shattered or gone, and the roof was missing a section of tiles.

“Shit!” remarked Jake, expressing the thoughts of them all. They looked at each other and put their government-issue hard-hats on.

Somebody emerged from the building and clapped their hands together for attention. He sauntered towards them with a wide, white smile. His eyes shone green and raindrops landed on the freckled skin of his face. “Well, come in. The roof is better than it looks. It will keep us dry if we stand in the right place.”

Rachel nudged Jared, “Totally hot. Told you,” she whispered.

“Oh, crap!” Jared froze, at the exact moment Jensen nodded a greeting to him.

Jensen didn't pause but moved on to do the same to Rachel, who tugged Jared's arm, “What's wrong?” she hissed.

“I forgot something. I should go.”

“What are you on about? We didn't have to bring anything, and there won't be another bus for an hour.”

“I'm in the wrong group. I'll …,”

“Is there something you want to share with the class, Mr. er…,” Jensen looked at Jared, as if for the first time, but there was a softness to his eyes, and his lips turned up slightly.

“Mr. Singer. Jared Singer,” Jared clarified. If he stared a little too long, he hoped nobody noticed.

“Jared, do you want to build great things one day?” Jensen spoke in a low drawl, and it sent a shiver through Jared that thrilled every nerve.

So many tangled feelings and memories were associated with that voice, the face, the man, yet all he could answer was a mumbled, “Yeah.”

“Then stay.”

Jensen waved the group in, and he was so collected, so very distant, that even Jared had to question if this was the person he knew. Maybe it wasn't. Jensen had never been real, except to Jared. It puzzled him why the man should keep the name of a dead slave. It hurt too, not being acknowledged by him, but Jared needed sponsorship, and there was only one way to get it. He couldn't afford to skip out on the assignment and lose his funding. For now he had to stay and play dumb. “Right,” he reluctantly agreed.

“Have a look around, team. You're going to decide what we will do with this place. My name is Jensen Ackles.” He looked directly at Jared when he spoke the name. “We'll be getting tired and dirty together, so don't call me Mr. Ackles, I'm just Jensen. I'm not an architect or an engineer. We will consult those as we progress. My experience is in getting projects moving and finished. I'm an enabler, a coordinator, and an extra pair of hands, and I'll be working on this full time, while you drop in to help me. Any questions?”

Yes, Jared had questions. There was a reel of them scrolling through his head, but he couldn't ask any of them here and now.

Rachel raised her hand, “Are you a lecturer, or not?”

“I'm more like a co-worker, but I do report back to your faculty, for funding purposes, so slacking will be noticed.”

The girls grinned at the response and Jake leaned in to whisper to Jared, “Uh-oh, he's just declared open-season on himself.”

One of the other students raised their hand, “Why are we fixing the station when the track hasn't been used for ages?”

“Ah. Good question. This section of track will be overhauled in the next few months, while we are working on the station.” He seemed relieved to answer a technical question.

Jared kept a distance from Jensen throughout the session, and it seemed as if Jensen was doing the same. It didn't stop Jared's hackles from rising, when one of the girls invaded Jensen's personal space, or asked an inane question for his attention. He knew it was unreasonable, he had no claim on him, and hadn't wanted one. He was over him, he was sure of it. It didn't stop him from wanting to push them away, and kiss him. Yeah, he had no idea how he was going to get through this; perhaps somebody in another group would swap.

When they were about through, and everyone was putting away their notebooks, Jensen approached Jared, “Can I speak to you a minute, Jared?” Everybody stared and Jared blushed. He couldn't refuse without having to explain.

Jensen took him out to the platform, overlooking a disused track with weed-filled cracks. “I'm sorry. This wasn't deliberate. I was supposed to be taking the community hall, but one of the other project leaders dropped out. They shuffled us around. You can swap out from the group, but this is the best project for you. I can be professional.”

Jared huffed, “Did you know I was here?”

“I checked on you from time to time.”

“That's kind of creepy.”

“Some people believe that if you save a life, you become responsible for that person forever.”

“It's still creepy, especially when you were the one who put me in danger in the first place. You dumped me in a brothel.” His anger flared briefly.

“You chose to stay there.” Jensen answered, in a frustrated growl. “And I wasn't spying in a creepy way.”

Jared sighed. He'd come to the conclusion, after the last time they'd been together, that Jensen didn't understand normal social boundaries. “Are you here to stay?”

“I've got an apartment, and it's starting to feel like home. Do you want me to leave?”

“No.” Jared answered a little too quickly.

“Good. Will you stay with this assignment?”

Jared looked at Jensen through his curtain of damp, messy, hair. He rolled his eyes and scowled. “Yeah. It's a challenge.”

“”Jared! Bus!” Jake yelled.

“I gotta go,” Jared turned to run for the bus.

“Maybe I could get you a coffee some time?”

“Maybe.”

He made it to the bus, just in time and plopped into the seat next to Rachel, who looked him up and down, “What was that about?” she asked, teasingly,

“He wanted to make sure I wasn't freaked out by the size of the project.”

“As long as he wasn't freaking you out over the size of something else,” Jake interrupted, wiggling his eyebrows, and they dissolved into giggles. The conversation went downhill from there, but it was usual college-kid banter.

It was after seven when Jared returned to his dorm. He was grateful to be away from the rest of his classmates. It was a strain discussing their project, and especially their group leader, and pretending to know nothing about him. Jensen didn't stay for Jared, but he had returned to Monkota. He had watched Jared, but he hadn't contacted him. However irrational it seemed, it hurt.

Jared stared at his books without reading. He reminded himself that he had pulled himself out of the situation he was in, and into an education, without Jensen's money or his help. He wrote the application, attended the interview, and passed an exam, and Madame hadn't needed to speak to anybody on his behalf.

Jared buried his head in his arms. Whatever blame he was assigning, it had been the right decision to send Jensen away, a year ago. Jared couldn't trust him, and he needed to reclaim his own pride. If Jared could relive Jensen's request to take him away, he knew his answer would be the same, yet when they were together, Jensen was like gravity. He pulled him in from every direction, and Jared felt the force in his body, heart and soul.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door, and Rachel bustled in and sat on his bed without waiting for answer. She patted the space next to her, and he moved to sit with her. “Are you okay?”

Jared sat up straight and rubbed wet eyes. “Of course. Why wouldn't I be?”

“Because you freaked when you met Ackles. Because you spent the entire session avoiding him, and he did the same with you. Because you have virtually the same mark on your faces.” She brushed his hair aside, to touch Jared’s cheek gently. “It's less obvious on you, but it's there. Everyone in our group has reasons why they're in this program, and I am sure you aren't the only ex-slave, or ex-POW. It's nothing to be ashamed of.”

“It's not like that,” Jared protested.

“You have history, though? Does he scare you? You could still swap out.” Rachel suggested quietly.

Jared didn’t think before defending Jensen. “No. No. Of course not. It’s me. He just…he's kind of a dick. I didn’t know he was here.”

Rachel waited for Jared to say more, or explain, but instead they sat in silence. Jared picked at his thumbnail. She finally broke the silence with a pat on his knee, and a tug of his hand. “C'mon. We're going to see Steve and Chris perform. Drink is on me, as long as it's a soda. No arguments.”

“Don't tell anyone about us, Jensen and me.”

“Is there a Jensen and you? You haven't told me anything,” she raised her eyebrows and laughed, “Of course not.”

Jared let himself be pulled along. He would show Jensen that he never needed him. He enjoyed the gig in a quiet corner of the bar, and when a student called Tom, as tall as him, with sparkling blue eyes and a dirty laugh asked to buy him a drink, he accepted.


	18. Big Bang 2013: Have Hatred and Gravity Won - 17/19

Jensen watched Jared sort bricks to re-use and put them into a wheelbarrow. The heavy work had built impressive muscles, and Jared’s face glowed with healthy color. College life suited him. Jared was popular and bright, and he smiled like sunshine while he worked and played. The desire to be close to him, to touch and to have Jared hadn't faded, and it took Jensen every effort to remain aloof. So far, in the four weeks they had worked together, there had been no opportunity to be alone with him. It could have been a coincidence, but he knew it was a circumstance engineered by Jared.

Over time, Jensen had come to accept that his fascination with a boy almost half his age was probably unhealthy, and there had been a few lovers in the year since Jared rejected him. Once, he could almost have believed he was in love. Before he returned to Monkota there had been Hafiz - only two years younger than Jensen. He was dark eyed, dark skinned, with a quick mind and a ready laugh. Jensen had tumbled into bed with him, and kept doing it for five weeks, but when the project they worked on together was complete, he couldn't find a reason to stay, and it didn't hurt to leave. After, it occurred to Jensen that he never shared his deepest emotions or secrets with Hafiz. He supposed any relationship was progress, but he hadn't tried again. Now, here was Jared in front of him, and he would give everything, for the one last chance he hadn't earned.

“Are you coming?” Rachel called to Jared. The rest of the students tidied their tools away, and the next bus was due in a few minutes.

Jared looked at Jensen, “If you're working, I'd like to carry on. I've almost finished re-pointing this wall.”

Jake scowled, “It's Saturday, dude. We were going to hang out.”

“You go ahead. I want to finish this. I'm broke anyway.”

Rachel tugged Jake away with a “Ssh,” on her lips.

“It's your loss, Jared.” Jake huffed, “Catch you later.”

The bus pulled away with a crunch of gears and stuttering engine. When it was around the corner Jensen took a chance, “If you want, we can work on that wall together. We'd get it finished faster. Then we could go somewhere for coffee, and you can tell me about college.”

Jared ducked his head and smiled, “I'd like that.”

They soon got into a rhythm, mixing mortar and applying it. They worked quietly, shoulder to shoulder, with occasional comments to encourage each other. Jensen reveled in the closeness and the raw scent of Jared which reminded him of the intimacy they once shared.

When they were almost done, Jared dug his trowel into the mortar on the mixing board. The board flipped up, flicking sticky gray aggregate all over him. “Oh! Ew!” He shook it off his hands, flicking it, in turn, onto Jensen's face. “Ah, shit! Sorry.” He gently reached a hand to Jensen's face to wipe away the thick blobs, and smeared more from his mucky fingers, leaving Jensen with stripes of dirt on his face. Jensen retaliated by dipping his fingers in the mortar and painting war stripes on Jared's face. They were helpless with laughter within minutes, clutching at each others' sticky fingers and rolling on the dusty floor to get the upper hand. They stilled with Jensen straddled over Jared's waist, pinning his hands against the floor above his head. He bit his lip, let go of his hands and started to get up. “God! Sorry!”

Jared's hands snaked up and around Jensen’s neck, to pull him back down. “I missed this, with you. It never felt right with anyone else.” He tilted his head up, and his lips brushed on Jensen's.

Jensen could feel the drying grit of mortar and taste it on Jared's lips. It was still the sweetest taste. He met Jared's mouth with his own, slid lips against lips and kissed him, careful at first, then deepening and passionate. He messed up Jared's thick brown hair with drying mortar on clutching hands, and Jared repaid the favor by rubbing it through his spiked short hair. Their lips slid together, and fitted perfectly. They kissed until they were breathless, and then sat up to check they hadn't been seen. They laughed at the state they were in.

Jensen calmed down before he spoke, “Nobody is going to serve us coffee like this, and I hear the dorm showers are hopeless. He poked at Jared's board-stiff hair. We should finish up, and you can come home for a shower, and a coffee.”

“I should get the bus. I don't have any way of getting back to my dorm.” Jared picked at his hair.

“I'll drive, unless that's a polite way of saying no. I mean, if your boyfriend is waiting...”

“No! No boyfriend. I'd love to, if it won't get you into trouble.”

“I'm not a teacher. I think we're good.”

They finished the wall, stood back to admire their handiwork, and then tidied away their tools. When the tips of their fingers touched Jared let them linger, and Jensen closed his eyes, memorizing the sensation.

 

Jensen's car was an old model hatchback with a dust sheet and assorted tools strewn over the back seat. His apartment was similarly modest, but clean and neat, in military-style. The coffee maker was a premium model and out of place by the basic microwave. Jared had to admit the coffee smelled delicious and Jensen rooted through his cabinets for syrup to put in Jared's cup.

“I thought killing people would pay better than this.” The words were out of Jared's mouth before he could stop them.

Jensen placed syrup on the worktop with a triumphant flourish, before answering, “It did, but I'm just Jensen Ackles. I'm an ex-slave who was offered amnesty, and was repaid the sum of his sister's estate. I have a basic-wage job, working with students and buildings. It would look strange to have more.” He patted his coffee maker, “For the truly important things, I make an exception.” He grimaced as he produced packet of powdered creamer, “Only I don't have cream, because I never have visitors. Well, not before now.”

They leaned casually against opposite worktops and Jensen looked relaxed. Jared watched him stir his syrup and creamer in, and accepted the fat mug in grubby hands. He steadied his nerves as he asked the question he most needed an answer to. “Who are you?”

Jensen's answer was passionate, and he looked Jared in the eye as he spoke. “I'm Jensen Ackles. I'm the guy you took fishing, and the one who serves the best breakfast in bed. I've been Jensen since you sent me away, and it's who I intend to be for the rest of my life. You made me see that.”

“Why did you come back?”

“You got the postcards, didn't you?” Jensen ran a forefinger around the edge of his mug. “I went elsewhere, everywhere. Sometimes I stayed among wealth. Sometimes I lived with the destitute. I wasn't expecting to miss this miserable nation, but you were right about belonging. It was time to come home. There was an amnesty, and the regeneration program, and Jensen's papers were always real.”

Jared's breath caught, and he straightened up. “Did they ask about me? If you're here, I can't have killed you.”

Jensen shook his head. “I don't think any of the government departments are organized enough to compare names, and it's not going to alter the rest of the charges that were laid against you.”

His shoulders slumped. It was true. In the months that followed his escape, Quintas produced enough 'evidence' to convict him, in his absence, of the murder of Fin and Jensen, as well as misappropriation of government funds. He had learned to live with the fear of being discovered, and numerous false sightings in Europe and America helped.

Jensen continued, “As for money; some of the best times I had were with people who had nothing, not even their next meal.” Jensen put his cup down, “It's humbling, and eventually you work out what really matters.”

“What matters to Jensen Ackles?” Jared asked earnestly. He tapped his fingers on the side of his mug, almost afraid to hear the answer.

Jensen paused before speaking. “I'm still figuring it out. I know I want to make a difference to the people around me. There are secrets I will keep for the rest of my life, but from now, I want to be honest. No more identities, no more running. I have a home, and eventually, I want someone to share it with.”

Jared took a breath and plunged in. He was done with waiting for his insane attraction to Jensen to subside; two years was long enough. “I don't suppose you have any ideas who with.” He looked from beneath fine strands of hair and thick lashes, flirting with him.

Jensen rubbed the back of his neck, “There's somebody,” he said with a slight smile, “But he's much younger than me, and I don't deserve him. I screwed up. He's been dating some drama-class douche called Tom, so I don't know if he'll agree to date me. Or, if he'll like me once he gets to know me better. I want to give it a try though. What do you think?” His smile faded, and he looked at Jared. He chewed on his lip, and the lines on his face deepened.

Jared stepped across the gap between them, until he was face to face with Jensen. He put his own mug down, to put both hands on Jensen's waist and pull him close. “I happen to know that Tom's boyfriend broke up with him, and a competent stalker would know it too.”

Jensen had the grace to blush. “Maybe a stalker needs to hear it, to be sure.”

Jared tried to hide a smile, but sparkling eyes and dimples gave him away. “This person, who broke up with Tom, maybe Tom didn’t fit just right to his side. Maybe Tom didn’t turn him on the way you did. Maybe Tom didn’t pin him down to hold him together when he was falling apart. Perhaps you were the reason. Perhaps he's prepared to take a chance, but he needs total honesty this time around, and he wants to know if you manipulated his entry into this college?”

“Presumptuous pup! I never said it was you.”

“No you didn't,” Jared dipped in for short sweet kiss, “But I don't see you objecting to a kiss. So …”

Jared could see the downward turn of Jensen's eyes, and his slight hesitation. He had already guessed at the truth, and his chest seemed too tight, his breath short as he waited for Jensen's answer.

Jensen drew a deep breath before speaking, “It took me a while to know where I wanted to be, and what I wanted to do.  When I looked at the details of the regeneration program, it was also ideal for you. I owed you the chance, but I couldn't influence the college admissions board. You passed the exam, and your interview was the best. You did that on your own. I knew you could” His hands smoothed over Jared's shoulders and down his arms to join his hands on his waist. Jared relished the touch. It felt like coming home.

“Madame said she picked up the college leaflet at the store, but you gave it to her, didn't you?”

“I met her at the store. I persuaded her to let you go. Was I wrong? You seem happy.”

“You could have come to me.”

“Would you have seen me?” He twined his fingers into Jared's.

Jared shook his head. He knew he wouldn't have welcomed Jensen while he was still at the Road House. “Thanks for telling the truth, however socially inappropriate you are,” he said, with a smile. There was a lightness in knowing that he had Jensen's honesty.

Jensen nodded an acknowledgment. “You should get a shower. I'll find something for you to wear. I have shorts somewhere.”

Jared stepped back. He didn't know how to bring up what he wanted to say. “Uh. About the shower. I er…”

“Jared, I'm not going to force myself on you in the shower.”

“I didn't think that!” Jared was defensive. “It's just that I haven't done anything intimate with anyone since leaving the Road House. I know what I am, and how it seems, but what I did there, it meant nothing. I don't ever want sex to feel like that again. I don't want to rush into it.”

Jensen reached a dusty finger to his lips. “Ssh. Nor do I. I want to date, and get to know you. The rest of it, we know we're good at. We don't need to rush. So, I will get a towel and clothes, and you can take your shower while I ring for take out. How does that sound, baby boy?”

“Good.” Jared was relieved, but his face must have betrayed some surprise at the use of the endearment.

“Shit! Oh god. I'm sorry. I don't mean to upset you. You're not anybody's baby boy, Jared.” Jensen clapped his hand to his mouth.

“I am.” It was Jared's turn to silence Jensen. “I never let any client use that name. I was Blue or Baby Blue. Baby boy was only ever for you.”

“I thought you hated me.”

“Even more reason to not let the johns use it.” Jared said, with a slight quirk of his lip. It was how the ban had started. He wasn't sure when his reasoning changed, or maybe it had altered according to his moods. His feelings for Jensen had alternated wildly between missing him, and wishing him a painful death.

“Fair point.” Jensen agreed. “If you want me to use it, I will. The first time you called me _daddy_ , I couldn't help thinking of men like Lou, but then it was you, and it felt right.”

“Back then, you said you were using me.” There was a challenge in Jared's words.

Jensen stroked Jared's hand. “That's how it was supposed to be, and I did my job, but if I said I felt nothing for you, I lied. I'm sorry for that.”

“And what I did to you, and to Fin?”

“For me, it was a job. I played my role, and I purposefully baited you. The whipping was sore, but it never bothered me. It worked out well for my purposes. I can't forgive you for what you did to others, but I think it's time you forgave yourself. You've more than paid the price, and you grew up.”

“So, we're good?”

“As long as you don't object to me ordering take out, we'll be golden. I'm starving. Pizza, Chinese, or Chicken?”

“Pizza.”

“Yes!” Jensen grinned. “Topping?”

“Meat feast, extra chili.”

“Ha! I was terrified you were going to say spinach and pineapple or something. Garlic bread or fries with it?”

“Both.”

“We're meant for each other, you know that?” Jensen's eyes crinkled at the edges, as he smiled.

***

Jared took off his shoes and crept into his dorm room after midnight. He covered his eyes as the light blinked on and Christian sat up in his bed. “Where the hell have you been, dude? Nobody's seen you since lunchtime. We were going to send out search parties.”

“It's Saturday night. I went out.” Jared whispered, but it was pointless. Steve was wide awake too.”

“You never go out. We thought you'd been abducted,”

“Or run over,” added Steve,

“Or got a girlfriend,” continued Chris, digging for information.

“What do you think Tom was? If you haven't worked out that I'm gay, then I pity you.” Jared spoke light-heartedly, but there was tension underneath. He didn't know how his friends would react to sharing their room with him. They had never said anything to imply they would have a problem him being gay, but that was never a reliable indicator.

“Tom was a douche, and you barely held hands,” declared Steve.

“You owe me ten dollars, Steve-o.” Christian crowed, and offered Jared a high-five.

Steve shrugged.

Jared was bemused. “You could have asked.”

“Nah. It's your personal life. We figured you'd tell us when you were comfortable,” Chris explained. “So, what's your new boyfriend like?”

“Hey! It's my personal life.”

“Is he hot?” pressed Steve.

Jared threw a pillow at him. “Of course!”

“Do we know him?” Christian took over.

“I don't think you've met, and that is all you're getting from me.”

Chris made smoochy sounds and put his hands around his own waist. “I bet you've been kissing and stuff.”

“So mature! We watched movies and ate pizza. I'm going to bed. Go to sleep!”

“Aw. Don't be mad. It's good to know you're getting some at last.”

“Christian!” Jared growled, playfully winging a shoe his way.

“Ouch.” Chris turned out the light. “Sweet wet dreams,” he teased.

Jared's other shoe joined the first on Chris's bed.

 

  



	19. Big Bang 2013: Have Hatred and Gravity Won - 18/19

 

Dating wasn't so hard, Jensen decided. They didn't announce their relationship to the student group, but they naturally gravitated to work together. On the days Jared had classes he would rush to put in extra time alone on the project with Jensen, before they ate together. It had been awkward at first, with Jared embarrassed at not being able to pay for his own meals, but Jensen pointed out that the extra hours he worked made Jensen's job easier.

The last of the window sealant went in as daylight faded. Jared wiped his hands on his jeans and stood back to admire their work. “It looks good.”

Jensen stood back and admired Jared. He couldn't resist a tease. “Well you're washing the glass. It's got your huge, sticky paw-prints all over it.”

“It's going to be covered in dust as soon as we start work again.”

“Just like you. Luckily, I like my boy dirty.” Jensen lowered his voice until it was husky. He leaned across to kiss Jared, and Jared kissed him back, passionate and deep.

They pulled apart with wet lips and a satisfied hum, and set about clearing their tools. “I was wondering if you were able to go somewhere with me on Sunday,” Jared asked suddenly, as if it made him nervous.

It occurred to Jensen that most of their time fell naturally into working, eating out or eating in, then relaxing in front of the television, or on the games console. He felt like a shitty boyfriend. “Yeah. I'd love to. Where are we going?”

“It's a surprise. I'll bring a picnic.”

Jensen looked out of the new window, “You are kidding? Have you seen the weather lately?”

Jared kissed him again. “Bring a raincoat, and boots.”

“Yessir.” Jensen saluted him. Sometimes it was hard to believe they were the same people who had been at the President's ranch together, and other times it was obvious. Jensen unconsciously felt the scar on his cheek. Jared had come a long way from the selfish brat he had once been. Sometimes, he worried that Jared would notice that Jensen wasn't good enough for him.

That night, they went to a bar for a change. They drank too much beer, and played pool until it was late. Jensen insisted on walking Jared home, and he weaved his steps beside Jensen. Apparently, he was a lightweight when it came to drinking. They stopped by the dorm, and Jensen pressed Jared against the corridor wall to support him while he opened the door. Jared lurched into Jensen with sudden fervor and his shirt buttons popped. Jared's tongue laved at Jensen's neck, distracting him while he fumbled with the door handle. “I know you want it daddy.” Jared murmured, before diving in to unfasten Jensen's pants. "Little boys shouldn't make you wait. I can be good for you.”

Jensen groaned. He could feel his own arousal matching the bulge growing in Jared's pants, but Jared was drunk, and he sounded uncomfortably like he was back at the Road House. Jensen silently counted to five and pushed him away. Jared stumbled, banged his head on the wall, and slumped to the floor.

“Don't you want me?”

_Oh great!_ Jared's eyes were watery with drunken tears.  Jensen offered a hand, “You know I do. You're killing me here.”

“I'm used up. You did that to me,” Jared slurred. “You left me there. You said you'd come back and you left me there. Now you don't want me.” His voice was loud and distressed.

“Jared c'mon, you're drunk. You don't want to do it like this.”

“I do it every way. _I'm a whore_!” Jared’s self disgust was evident in his declaration. He reached for Jensen’s hand, to get up, and missed. He fell back on his ass with a _whumpf._

The door beside them opened and light flooded out. Christian and Steve were on Jensen in a moment. “Get off him!” Steve snarled, pulling Jensen away. Jensen instinctively tensed for a fight and formed a fist.

Jared blinked up blearily, “Don't hit him,” he muttered, without it being clear who he meant. Jensen uncurled his fist. Jared was right, his dorm-mates were kids, and he could do too much harm.

Christian and Steve glared at Jensen, looking at his loose zipper, and Jared's unbuttoned shirt. Chris helped Jared up. “What are you doing to him?”

For once, Jensen wasn't playing a role. He didn't know what to say. “He's drunk,” is all he could force out.

“And you thought you could take advantage.” Steve accused him, angrily.

“S'my daddy,” blurted Jared.

They took a moment to study Jensen and note his age, rough stubble on his chin, and his scar, “Oh,” they said, and their confusion simultaneously turned to disgust.

Jensen put his hands up, “I'm not actually his daddy.”

Christian squared up to Jensen. He manhandled Jared into Steve's arms. “Get him inside and lock the door.” He grabbed Jensen's arm, to march him out, and Jensen gritted his teeth to prevent himself from reacting. Logically, he knew what Jared's dorm-buddies were seeing looked bad, and Jared was no help.

“It's not what you think, but I'm going.”

Christian shoved him through the main exit.“You sick fuck. Leave Jared alone, or we'll call security.”

Jensen shouted as the door closed on him, “Make sure he has water, and he lies on his side. Don't let him choke.” Christian gave him a one-fingered salute on the other side of the glass panel.

Jensen walked home, sobering rapidly in the cool night air. He needed to talk to Jared about his self-esteem, but it would wait until their hangovers were gone.

 

Jared's head was pounding. His mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton wool and his stomach was staging a mutiny. He groaned and put a pillow over his head. Steve removed it.

“Drink!”

Jared forced his eyes open to a glass of water by his face.

“C'mon you moose. Time to wake up. Chris and I have to go to class. We've called you in sick, but you have to have a drink.” Steve was firm but sympathetic. Jared suspected that he and Chris been in Jared’s condition on numerous occasions.

Jared took the glass gratefully and sipped, “Ugh, what happened.”

“You've got to be more careful, dude. You brought some creep back last night. God knows what would have happened if we hadn't been here.”

Fragments of memory came back to Jared and he groaned again. He'd made an idiot of himself and he had no idea what he'd said to Steve and Chris. The enormity of what he might have revealed about himself, hit him hard. His stomach rolled and he ran for the bathroom.

Steve brought some Tylenol into the bathroom for him. “Take these. If you have any problems, I've got my cell on.”

“I'm an idiot. What did I say last night?”

“You rambled about a load of nonsense. Have you considered the creative writing course? Because you have an active imagination.”

Jared huffed. “I love fantasy books.” At least it wasn't an outright lie.

“Go back to bed,” Steve ordered.

Jared shuffled into the dorm and crawled back under his covers.

He awoke confused, to the racket of a cockerel crowing, remembered Jensen changing his text alert and felt about for his cell phone.

_How's your head? Do you forgive me? xJensenx_

He couldn't handle the noise, so he turned it off, covered his eyes from daylight and retreated under the covers. He'd return the text soon.

The next time he woke, Christian was shaking him, and it was afternoon. “You need to eat.” He threw a Snickers bar on the cover of Jared's bed.

“Thanks man, I owe you one.”

“Next time I come in drunk off my ass, you can cover for me.”

Jared bit in to the chocolate and chewed enthusiastically. He was suddenly hungry. There was a knock at the door and it opened slowly. Jensen poked his head around. “Is it safe?” he asked.

Christian made a rush for the door, and Jensen side stepped him, catching him easily in an arm lock. “Ow, ow, fuck you!” Christian yelled, as he struggled unsuccessfully to get free.

“Once is enough. If Jared wants me to leave, he can tell me himself. Understand?” Jensen's voice was laced with threat. He looked at Jared, who put a hand to his head.

“Can't you play nicely? I have a headache. Jensen, put him down. Christian, leave Jensen alone.”

“Do you remember what this douche did to you last nigh…”

Jensen increased his pressure on Christian's arm.

“Ow, ouch.”

“Stop it!” Jared whined.

“Do you want me to go?” Jensen asked Jared, with his hold on Christian unwavering.

“No, no. I want you to stay and cuddle me better.” Jared knew he sounded pathetic. It was how he felt.

“Did you hear that, college boy?” Jensen shook Chris, and relaxed his hold when he nodded vigorously.

 

“I'm sorry.” Jared aimed the apology in the general direction of both Christian and Jensen. “I seem to remember being a dick last night, or maybe going after dick. That was out of order. Then I fell on the floor, and I don't remember much after that.” He sat up quickly, and his head reeled with sharp pain, “Uh, what happened after that? How did you get home, Jen?”

Jensen released Christian, and sat on the edge of Jared's bed, “Your friends accused me of debauchery and threw me out.”

“Hmm, but I wanted to be debauched,” Jared grouched. He leaned into Jensen's side. “I am never drinking again.”

Christian snorted, “Until next time.” He looked at Jensen, before asking Jared, “How well do you know this dude?”

Jensen put his arm around Jared's waist and smoothed his hand over Jared's skin under his tee-shirt.

Jared yawned. “I guess I'm busted. This is Jensen Ackles. He's my boyfriend.”

Christian's eyes almost bugged out of his head. He looked concerned. “Ackles? The one you're doing the station project with? I knew you were putting in a lot of hours! Man, do you think it's wise?”

Jared shrugged. "It's not like it's a part of my grades, and he's not a lecturer.”

Christian narrowed his eyes, assessing Jensen’s comforting arm around Jared. He seemed satisfied. “It's your business Jared; I'm going to leave you to it.”

Jared waited for the “If you hurt him …,” speech, but Chris skirted around Jensen cautiously on the way out. Jared nudged Jensen after the door closed. “You didn't have to scare him.”

“That wasn't scary.”

It was a reminder that Jensen was a whole lot more dangerous than an arm lock. Jared couldn't help wondering how many victims Jensen had tackled that way and how many of them still lived. A shiver traveled down his spine when he thought about it. He wasn't sure if it was fear or arousal. “Do you miss it?” he wondered.

“Miss what?”

“Being a soldier. Having all that power.”

Jensen regarded him seriously. “Sometimes. It gave me a buzz that you can't get in civvie life. Do I want to go back to it? No. I like having you with me, and there's a different sort of satisfaction in rebuilding. It's enough. How about you? Is this what you thought it would be?” He waved a hand around the dorm.

“It's not fraternity life, but I never wanted that. It's good. It beats the alternative.” Jared gave a twisted smile.

“Yeah, well, the alternative was shitty, and I'm sorry I did that to you.”

“It may have been unorthodox, but you saved my life, when you could have left me dead in a shallow grave. I should have acknowledged that before now. You've apologized enough.”

Jensen turned his eyes to the floor in embarrassment. “I should never have put you in that position in the first place.”

Jared noted his discomfort, and changed the subject with a cheerful suggestion, “Since the jungle telegraph will have outed us to the entire campus, let me treat you to dinner. I've been saving coupons.”

There was a certain relief in no longer keeping their relationship a secret. Rachel decided it was tragic that two hot guys should be hot for each other, and there were a few disapproving glances, but there were no mean comments. On the whole, Jared thought it went well. They were four months into the refurbishment of the railway station, and it was ninety percent complete, so if the faculty had a problem with them, it would be short lived. Jared knew his next assignment would be a social project, and he dreaded giving up the hours he worked with Jensen.

They tumbled into Jensen's apartment, a mess of limbs crashing on the sofa, with Jared sprawling arms and legs over Jensen, and demanding a kiss. It was met with soft lips, a slick slide, and fingers that clutched into Jared's hair. Jared closed his eyes, felt it all, and wondered if he had the courage to ask for more.

“What are you thinking?” Jensen asked softly.

“How perfect that kiss was. That it's going to suck when my assignment changes. That I'm not drunk, and I might be in love with you." Jared bit his lip, and let his hair hide his eyes. He felt exposed and vulnerable. He'd made the same declaration, a lifetime ago, and Jensen had laughed at him and betrayed him. It had to be a form of madness to make the same declaration and risk that hurt again.

Before answering, Jensen pulled him across so Jared was sitting sideways on his lap, and Jared wrapped octopus-arms around his neck to cling to him. “We could have more time together, and save money, if you moved in with me. I checked the rules for your funding, and it wouldn't alter. Mouse could visit without worrying what anyone thinks.”

It wasn't the romantic response Jared had been looking for, but Jensen's fingers curled in the ends of his hair and his anxious expression told him that Jensen cared, and had thought about his proposal for a while.

“I'd love to stay.” Jared squeezed Jensen. “I'll have to work the hours my program sets, and I’ll still do college stuff. I promised Chris and Steve I'd go to see them play, and there's quiz nights.”

“Of course. You deserve to be young.”

“You can come with me.”

“I don't want to be the creepy old guy.”

Jared kissed him. “Never! Well, maybe a little.”

“Watch-out, baby boy. I might have to spank your ass.”

Jared wriggled suggestively on Jensen's lap. “Promises, promises.”

“You don't have to go back to the dorm tonight. We could practice living together.” Jensen peppered Jared's shoulder with light kisses.

“We could practice other things together. I need to test the bed.” Jared grinned at Jensen.

“Are you sure you're ready? Just you and me, here and now. No faking or ghosts?”

Jared sucked Jensen's earlobe, “Just you and me, and I _never_ faked it with you.”

“Hold on tight there's something I always wanted to do.” Jensen growled. Jared could feel Jensen's muscles tense. He clung on to him as he was lifted and carried to the bedroom. “I'm going to carry you over the threshold.”

Jared landed on the bed with a whump, and a laugh. The mattress bounced under him and the wood creaked ominously. “First part of the test – we're going to need a new bed,” he decided.

“I swear you're still growing,” groused Jensen, tumbling onto the bed beside him, “And we're seriously failing the second part of the test.”

“What's that?” mumbled Jared, nuzzling into Jensen's neck, inhaling him.

“Getting naked.” Jensen tugged Jared's tee shirt over his head.

“Mm. I can go for that.” He licked a stripe up Jensen's neck, tasting salt and feeling the coarse evidence of his stubble, while his fingers fumbled with the buttons of Jensen's shirt.

They took their time, with no ulterior motives, no glance at a clock to calculate fees, and nobody to please but themselves. Jared traced patterns of hearts and flowers in the maze of Jensen's freckles, and Jensen counted his moles in retaliation, even the tiny one that nestled at the top of his thigh. Jensen licked and teased and nipped at Jared's nipples until he begged and squirmed out from under him, only to scoot down between Jensen's thighs, and suck and lick noisily at his balls. Jensen took his turn in wriggling away, only to scoot to the very end of the bed, where he made Jared screech with laughter, tickling as he mouthed wetly around his toes.

When their hands might have been done exploring, their eyes had taken their fill, their mouths tasted every part of each other, they made love, and there were still more sensations to feel and sounds to make. Jared moaned and snapped his hips impatiently while Jensen opened his furled muscle, a finger at a time. He was stubbornly careful, thick with lube and achingly slow. Jensen knelt between Jared's thighs, face to face, looking into his incrediblefoxy eyes as he eased the head of his cock into Jared's tight heat. Jared watched Jensen's eyelashes flutter over green eyes darkened with lust. He cried out and ground against Jensen, eager for more. Jensen buried himself deep, and they lost themselves in the slick and slide, skin on skin, flesh in flesh. The air around them seemed to crackle with heat and was heavy with the smell of sweat and passion.

Jensen whispered obscenities of all the things he wanted to do to his baby boy, into the shell of Jared's ear, and Jared yelled his own commentary, with no consideration for the neighbors, “There, there, oh fucking, sweet, son of a bitch, don't stop, nngh.”

Jensen paused in his thrust, to tease him. In revenge, Jared leaned up to suck a hickey by Jensen’s Adam's apple. At last, when he could hold out no longer, Jensen took Jared's proud cock in his hand. He stroked its length, squeezed the head and dipped a finger into the slit, wet with pearls of precome. “Come with me,” he whispered. Jared arched up into his touch, and Jensen thrust deep into Jared, against the nub of his prostate. He felt the flutter of muscle clench around Jensen, and the spatter of warm come on his belly, as he let the white lightning of his orgasm take over. Somewhere, in his consciousness he noticed the cracking sound of breaking wood and felt a sideways tilt, but it wasn't what mattered.

They collapsed into each other, panting and exhausted, and thoroughly sated. They still kissed, mouths, red and swollen with their passion. When Jensen pulled out they shuffled to settle together with Jared curled into Jensen's side. Jensen took a deep breath and spoke up, “You aren't a whore and never will be again. It was a job and it's over. You're a student, you're young. You're as good, no _better,_ than anyone else here. You have to stop punishing yourself for what I did to you. I should have told you it sooner. You're perfect. I love you.” 

Jared reached to hold his hand and squeeze it tight. His eyes glistened with tears, and he didn't know if it was because memories still hurt, or because he had waited so long to hear those three words from Jensen. “I know. I just need time.” He chuckled, to break the tension, and joked, “I love you so much - we broke the bed,” Should we do something?”

Jensen used his shirt to wipe them both, “Nah. Let's sleep.”

They shut their eyes and pressed together. The next day they would wake on the floor, and make love there, ignoring the neighbor below, who protested by banging a broomstick on the ceiling. “Perhaps we should think about a different apartment for our new bed,” commented Jensen.

 

Jensen dropped Jared off ten minutes late for his first class of the day. When he was alone in his car, he turned his phone in his hand, deep in thought. He pulled up a number and dialed. A woman's sultry voice answered.

“Danni?” Jensen asked, “Is it done?”

 

  



	20. Big Bang 2013: Have Hatred and Gravity Won - 19/19

 

On Sunday, Jared had Jensen park the car in a wooded area just outside the town limits, then fitted him with a blindfold.  


“Trust me.” Jared checked the blindfold and held Jensen’s hand. “The ground is a bit rough, watch your step.”

“Oh, very funny! Should I be grateful that we're not knee deep in mud?” In truth the blindfold didn't bother him as much as it should. Years of training and night exercises made him alert for sound and smells that gave a clue to where he was going. Jared wasn’t stealthy, his footfall was clear, crunching on sticks and undergrowth. In his world Jared would be dead already. The thought shocked Jensen, and he shook it off. He was no longer part of that world.

“Step to the left,” came Jared's helpful instruction, “There's a slight bank ahead.”

Sunshine lit spots through the blindfold, and leaves rustled in the wind. He heard birdsong and in the distance, the faint tinkle of water, maybe a stream or brook. Wherever they were going, Jensen thought it was a good day for it.

They stepped over a low barrier onto gravel which rattled underfoot, and they walked for a few hundred meters. There was a flap of wings overhead, a splash, and the unmistakable quack of ducks. Water - _a lake or a river_. Guessing the direction they'd walked, Jensen thought of the lake to one side of the river…in which case… “Jared! There was a direct path to this place wasn't there?”

Jared's laugh was infectious and unfettered. He pulled the blindfold off and turned Jensen around. In the distance Steve and Rachel walked away with a wave. Next to them, by the water, were two fishing stools, rods and tackle and the largest picnic basket Jensen thought he'd ever seen.

“I made sure there were frog hoppers for you,” Jared declared proudly, “So, this time you could try to catch something respectable.”

“Trout is a very respectable meal,” Jensen argued with a smile. “Wow, how did you arrange this?”

“Bargaining. I'm giving some math help to the kid who lent us the fishing gear. I have to go with Rachel on her next clothes shopping trip, and we're the roadies for Steve and Christian's next two gigs.”

Jensen felt the weight of the rods, and chose a reel and a hopper. “I thought Christian hated me.”

“He's fickle. He decided he needed to be friends when he realized how strong you are. He's already decided that you're unloading the speakers and amps.”

They sat, side by side, looking up into the sun. In the lake there was a 'plop', and water rippled on the surface. Jared snaked a hand behind Jensen and dropped a fishing hat on his head. “I don't want your delicate nose to burn.”

“We look like a pair of grumpy old men,” Jensen complained, but he let it be when Jared put a similar hat on his own head.  Jared looked ridiculous, and relaxed, and beautiful.

“Yeah. I'd like that, grumpy and old together,” Jared mused fondly.

“I'll be old and gray haired, when you still want to party. What happens then?”

“I'll buy you a wheelchair and feed you Viagra, and you'll still kick ass.”

“Hey!” Jensen chuckled, “I only said gray haired. There will be no Viagra needed!” Their hats bumped together as Jensen ducked in for a kiss.

Jared set up his own rod, and cast out. He let the line out gradually and allowed his lure to drag near the bottom of the lake. He looked over to Jensen's little neon-pink frog bouncing on the surface. “You never needed any help with fishing did you?”

Jensen had the tact to look guilty, “No, but I do like it when you help me with my rod.” His grin was pure filth. 

“Maybe we'll do that tonight. I brought soda rather than beer, so you can't refuse to debauch me.”

They sat by the lake, in quiet companionship. Leaves floated languidly on the water and birds darted low, to snatch flies by the surface. There was a faraway drone of cars on the highway, and high in the sky, jet planes left fluffy white trails, without a sound. It was as if time stopped around them, and the peace of it took every worry from them for a while.

As the sun set in an orange glow, they packed up their rods, and reels and lures. They put back the four fish they caught, and none of them were prize weights, but it was still a perfect day.

In the evening they cuddled on the sofa, put a movie on, and made out lazily.

When the credits went up, Jensen sat and reached for the daily newspaper, still pristine and folded.  He had hidden his own surprise all day, and was excited to reveal it to Jared. “I called in some favors for you too, baby boy.”  He turned to the second page and gave it to Jared to read.

 

  
MOROCCAN POLICE GUN DOWN JARED PADALECKI  
DNA Test Confirms Identity of Dead Man. 

  
  
  
Jared swallowed hard, and his voice trembled as he spoke, “Oh! I'm dead.” It wasn't as joyful as Jensen hoped, but he hadn't considered the 'I'm _dead_ aspect.” Jensen's own identity had died so many times, he rarely considered it.  Jared looked into Jensen's face and Jensen could almost see the cogs of his mind turning. “Does this mean I can go to my own funeral?”  


“Already cremated,” Jensen declared proudly, “No loose ends.”

Jared was still thinking. Jensen recognized his thinking face. “Jensen, somebody got shot and killed.”

“And now, everyone believes it was you. You're safe. Nobody is ever going to come after you.”

Jared still wasn't overjoyed, and now Jensen was getting anxious. “I did it for you.” He reached for his hand, and held it for his own reassurance.

“Who was he?” The hazel of Jared's eyes acquired a steely glint.

“He was someone who was going to die anyway. It was quick.”

Jared rubbed a huge sweaty palm over his face. When it came away, there was a softer expression on his face. He put Jensen's hand to his mouth and kissed his fingers. “My daddy. You always save me.” Jensen chose to ignore Jared's added, “In the oddest ways.”

Jensen gave a sigh of relief, “Anything for you.”

Jared changed the subject. “We should go to bed.”

The temporary repair to the bed was sturdy enough for their most energetic love-making but it rocked and thumped on the floor. The neighbor in the downstairs apartment battered the ceiling in protest. After, when they were exhausted, and lying in each others' arms, Jensen stared down at the floor, “I'm getting fed up with that guy and his broom.”

Jared nuzzled into his neck and licked his shoulder. “Do me a favor,”

Jensen kissed the top of his head, “Anything.”

“No more old contacts, no calling in favors, and leave the neighbor alone. It's Jensen Ackles and Jared Singer.”

Jensen wasn't sure if Jared was amused or exasperated with him. “No more favors, and I promise to leave the neighbors alone.” Jensen repeated solemnly. He let Jared burrow close, and let it soothe him. His fingertips traced the declaration of Jared's possession, on his own face. JP, _Jared's_. This was who he was, and where he belonged, to protect, to nurture and to love his boy. He was home.

 

Jared let the shared heat of their naked bodies soothe him. His eyes lingered on the curves and details of his lover's body, and he imagined a twelve year old boy whose life had been shattered into pieces. He wondered how it was, that it was Jensen who made him whole. They had a future together. It was time they both let go of the past.   


Jared closed his eyes, to sleep. He was safe in the arms of his protector, his daddy and his lover. He knew that Jensen would kill for him, and who wouldn't want that? 

 

~end~

_Thank you for reading. Comments are loved._

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Have Hatred and Gravity Won](https://archiveofourown.org/works/888505) by [Amberdreams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amberdreams/pseuds/Amberdreams)




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